


The Hourglass

by Elizabeth234



Series: Whumptober 2020 [1]
Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Canon, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Angst, Character Death, Family, Gen, Hurt Peter Parker, Hurt/Comfort, Irondad, James "Rhodey" Rhodes & Tony Stark Friendship, James "Rhodey" Rhodes is a Good Bro, Language, Mentions of Suicide, Nightmares, Protective James "Rhodey" Rhodes, Protective Tony Stark, Sad Peter Parker, Shooting, Time Travel, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Whumptober 2020, spiderson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-02
Updated: 2021-01-04
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:40:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 22
Words: 43,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26763727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elizabeth234/pseuds/Elizabeth234
Summary: Peter believes he is living on borrowed time, but when he runs into Tony Stark and James Rhodes that will all change. Will he fight for more time or is all lost?
Relationships: James "Rhodey" Rhodes & Tony Stark, May Parker (Spider-Man) & Peter Parker, Peter Parker & James "Rhodey" Rhodes, Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Series: Whumptober 2020 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1950433
Comments: 27
Kudos: 131
Collections: Whumptober 2020





	1. Ripples in Water

**Author's Note:**

> Hi all. First and foremost, I hope you have all been well. This story grew out of the prompts for Whumptober this year! Hope you enjoy.
> 
> Happy spooky season!

Peter’s hands shook as he carried the tray filled with a sparse arrangement of food. The movement wasn’t enough for any onlookers to notice but he saw the way the water swirled back and forth in the cup. Peter swallowed back a dry itch in the back of his throat as another ripple rose toward the center of the glass and faded back to the edges. His stomach growled but he didn’t dare touch what was on the tray. It wasn’t for him.

The doors slide open welcoming him down the unending, grey hallways. They would open as he approached and without looking he could hear them slide shut once he passed through. Maybe cornering him would be a better word for it. Eyes stared down at him, tracing his movements from the cameras placed along the ceiling every few feet or so. The invisible eyes watching through the cameras knew all. They saw his every movement and sometimes, when he was alone at night feeling the weight of their stare, he felt like they saw his very thoughts. 

The last door stayed closed and he paused in front of it before looking up for the first time. He stared into the small glass screen and with a barely perceptible breath nodded. The resounding latches began moving in the metal. Peter waited until the last latch unlocked and stepped forward. He took two steps inside the door and stilled, waiting until it was shut again with a last grind of metal. 

Those two paces brought him under the light hanging down from a wire in the ceiling. The lowlights throughout the hair on the top of his head were illuminated under the false glare of the swinging light. He didn’t bother squinting past the bars; it was the lone light going forward and he wouldn’t see anything else. 

Peter waited three seconds, enough to exhale the breath he was holding, and stepped up to the bars. A chilled draft blew over his face sending goosebumps down his arms. The mechanisms in the bars unlocked with a small beep. Peter stepped forward again, two and a half steps to be exact, until the bars were at his back. Shadows enveloped his figure and the ripples in the water he carried on the tray. He blinked in order to adjust to the light change though his mind already knew what was ahead.

Three steps to the right was a cement bench no more than a pallet hosting a thread worn blanket. There was no pillow. To his left about four paces was a toilet and small sink. There was no mirror because of its ability to be used as a weapon. Peter couldn’t remember if there was soap. 

Neither of those directions was where he was supposed to go. Peter’s task was to walk five paces forward, slide the tray unappetizing food and all onto the other cement slate built into the wall of the cell. Though he couldn’t see, he knew how wide to make his steps, how far he needed to go as long as he stayed perpendicular to the bars. Any missteps would end up in a collision because he wasn’t the only one in this particular cell. 

Sitting on that cement slab five steps forward and two steps to the right was the man whose cell it was. Peter had only caught a glimpse of him a handful of times. The man amounted to a smattering of features, barely anything tangible for Peter to grasp on to. In his mind, the man was nothing more than an apparition of brown hair shaved to the skull, short stature, and strong hands. These were the only things Peter knew about the man with absolute certainty. But after so much time without reaffirmation, without sight to guide him, he wasn’t sure how real the man was. Maybe now, through the sands of time, the man was something else entirely, forged by each minute, each second, he was locked behind the many bars and walls of this place. 

He took a step forward and then another, pausing to take a breath before one more. His leg’s stilled, frozen in place as he realized why his breath was so short and heavy. The sands of time slowed when he noticed what his eyes were blinded to by the darkness in the room. Instead of open space in front of him, there was something there. The tingling feeling in the back of his neck itched as he took in the space filled by something physical, something other than the dark. He swallowed and stalled for a moment until he figured out what to do. 

The man wasn’t supposed to be sitting in front of him. Every other time Peter had carried the tray in the man was sat two steps to the right, far enough away Peter could walk in the cell, five steps, drop the food off with minimal disturbance to the stale air, and turn back around to retrace his steps out. The cameras watched everything but it never varied. Peter never stepped out of line. 

He wanted to shy away from the thoughts of what would happen in a break from protocol but the situation demanded it. He had to look at this objectively. Cold rooms, vying hands, and burning veins all demanded his attention. All of them were consequences he would face if something else went wrong. The ripples increased their frequency in the cup. 

What should he do now?

Peter ran through his options. One involved running out of the cell, cowering in his own cell, but he would still be in trouble. He could report this, but as of yet there wasn’t anything to report and he abhorred the thought of getting someone else in trouble. The conclusion was unsatisfactory but he clung to the fact that the man broke their routine first. Peter would therefore have to adapt and do the same. He inhaled, stepped to the right, and then forward. Two more steps forward. Peter bent over to place the tray on the cement but he was too caught up in his thoughts and caught the edge. The tray tipped over causing the cup to fall off the side and onto the floor splashing liquid onto his feet and pants. 

“Shit.” He said. 

It was a whisper said under his breath, but the word took shape and plunged into the air. He’d never said anything in that room before. Peter couldn’t remember the last time he spoke of his own volition. To speak without someone expecting a response and despite the challenging circumstance, regardless of how he was on his knees trying to sop up the water, he felt a coil of satisfaction brimming in his stomach. It was a foreign feeling and he almost spoke again just to see if it would increase but he withheld. The man sucked in a breath at his pronouncement. The small sound sucked away any thought of saying something again. 

He slid the tray further onto the surface, making sure it wouldn’t tip over, and placed the cup next to it, aware of how light it was. His fingers felt the bench to make sure nothing else would fall off and he came across something soft. The leather cuffs had straps attached to them. Their leather edges worn from use. 

The cool material was all too familiar to him. 

Peter stumbled back. Three paces away from the cell’s occupant and turned to go. The water seeped further into his pants. He pulled the cooling material away from his leg, wincing at the tacky residue on his skin. He should walk the rest of the way out of the cell and back to his own, forgetting about the man until the next time he delivered a tray of food. But Peter had deprived him of water; he needed to apologize so instead he turned around and took a step closer to the sitting person. Peter could hear his steady breathing. 

“I’m sorry.” 

Peter stood waiting for a moment before he made a second break in protocol. It was one so minuscule he hadn’t thought about the consequences. All he wanted was to just be in the silence, unseen by cameras and exist in the shadows. But time had another idea and as the sands sped up, the other occupant of the cell made his move. He sensed Peter’s guard dropping and seized the moment. 

In that second, Peter closed his eyes and sent a silent apology to the apparition in the room seated in front of him. In that second, he discovered the occupant was no mere apparition. The man was a raw combination of flesh, blood, and strength. Peter’s head slammed against the wall as a hand clamped over his throat and another against his shoulder, pushing him into the wall. 

He gasped in reaction as black spots danced in his vision. Shackles of cold metal pushed into the skin by his collar. They clinked together barely louder than the harsh breaths trying to escape his throat. Peter’s hands came up to encircle the man’s wrist. They dug into his skin, trying to push them away. Before he succumbed to his fear, Peter realized his third observation of the man had been correct. 

His hands were pure strength and if he wasn’t at the other end of their grip, he would have admired them for the quality.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who is the man in the cell? I wonder...
> 
> If you have any prompts you want to see let me know in comments or on my [tumblr](https://elizabeth-234.tumblr.com)
> 
> Thanks for reading! 💛


	2. Kidnapped? Kidnapped!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is the whumptober prompt for day two: In the Hands of the Enemy - Kidnapped! Hope you enjoy.

Peter’s breath stuttered out. He struggled against the hands with urgent, harsh jerks stemming from his torso out to his limbs. Somehow, he fought against the fear, willed himself not to fall into every inevitable reaction. It would be too easy and quick to give in and use his superior strength out of a desire to gain distance. Even though he was pressed against the wall, his head throbbing, he didn’t want to hurt the man. 

Keeping his muscles tense, he stopped moving around. Like a deer in headlights he coiled his muscles ready to move but waited. Peter could make out a shake of the man’s head. His hands weren’t tight on clenched tight, instead they hovered over his skin almost afraid to touch him but needing to verify he was there all the same. The man leaned forward, closer to Peter.

“How old are you?” He said. 

The words hung in the air, anticipating a response. Peter wondered if the man discovered the same satisfaction he had at speaking. If there was the same rush running through his veins at that moment from sending something into the world. He almost answered just to have something to say. Peter shook his head and the hand resting on his shoulder squeezed. 

It was strange to realize through the mess of broken rules he wasn’t hurt. Adrenaline was flooding through his system but besides a bruised head Peter was fine. Neither hand moved closer instead they continued to hover over him, leaving goosebumps and something else Peter couldn’t quite define. Threat or… concern? Both those words didn’t encompass what was happening and he was grasping at straws in the dark. 

He could see the bars five paces away. The whole delivery was supposed to be thirty seconds at most including the time it took to open each door. He was sure the number was close to being done. They would know he wasn’t in his cell at times end and when he was missing it could mean two things, although now he was guessing. Someone would rush to make sure they weren’t hurt or they would wait until one or both of them were dead before intervening. He tried to see the path ahead, to make out what he should do so they both got out unscathed. 

More pressing was the issue of his answer. It was another break in protocol, to give information about yourself to another inmate. The question was if they would know he said it and if he cared. He was shaking his head before he realized he’d decided. 

The man sighed and squeezed his shoulder again. The action left a tightness in his chest but he assumed it was a leftover symptom of knocking his head on the wall. 

“You sound young. How about this, you don’t have to say anything but nod if you’re about sixteen.” 

His head turned toward the voice and Peter wished he could see into his eyes. Would they be cold and clinical like the ones he was surrounded with during the day? Or would they be like the ones of the past? Warm. Gentle. 

Five steps never seemed so far away before. 

Peter couldn’t think; he couldn’t navigate through what he should do versus what he wanted. For some reason against all the risks he wanted to tell this stranger. He wanted to speak with this strange apparition, create a person from the solitary characteristics Peter knew about him so he nodded. He would be safe with that small movement. The man stilled, his breath stopped on an exhale making an undemanding sigh. 

“You’re… shouldn’t be here.” He said pausing as if to change what he was going to say. Peter couldn’t agree more though. He needed to be at least five steps away by now. Out of the doors and back in his own, quiet space where he could disappear. 

None of this made any sense. The man had broken so many rules and was dragging Peter down with him. His stomach was beginning to cramp and the back of his head was continuing to make it hard to think. The empty cup seemed worlds away now. 

“I’m sor-”

He never finished his words. The outer door burst open sending light into the corners of the cell. Peter cringed back against the wall and his hands tightened around the man’s wrist. His eyes closed against the stark light as an alarm screamed on. Memory after memory came to the forefront of his mind. Small rooms. Shackled collars closed tight. Unending isolation. And while he shuddered to think of those things the punishments wouldn’t be isolated to that. They would start effecting his everyday life. Meals would be late or forgotten entirely, same with the showers. Once someone had raided his cell and took the few books he had. All of this was overwhelming until the hand on his shoulder squeezed once more. Peter opened his eyes and saw the man’s face for the first time. 

His head was shaved short, only under the lights directed at them from the doorway could Peter see the brown color of the cut hairs. He spared a glanced at the man’s mouth and forehead, both furrowed and lined, and looked at the eyes he was so curious about before. Though their coloring was interesting, a deep brown with flecks of black speckled throughout, it was the emotion that kept his attention. Just like the hesitancy and urgency in the man’s grip on his neck, there was a certain duality to his eyes. They stayed focused completely on him and taking in his face but there was almost a distance there, an ocean Peter couldn’t understand yet or cross. He suddenly wished he saw the man’s first impression of him. It was too much and his head throbbed. Peter couldn’t grasp onto any coherent thought and he looked away from the man, disconnecting their eye contact.

The man coiled his body, coming to some critical conclusion from his observations. He shoved Peter down onto the cement bench and stepped in front of him, facing the men in uniforms who swept in on the other side of the bars. They were unarmed but the lack of weapons didn’t mean they weren’t prepared. 

Peter shivered and tried to peer around the legs in front of him. The man reached behind him knowing what Peter was trying to do and pushed Peter back to the wall again. The alarm continued to go off and he could feel the pulsing sensor nestled into the skin of his neck. They didn’t need weapons really when all they needed to do was lift a finger and both of them would be frozen on the ground. 

Their words ordered him to step away but they held no weight. They were intruders on the cell and instead of hanging in the air and growing to mean something, they disappeared without another thought. The man didn’t move a muscle as they yelled out to him.

“Inmate 214 come forward now.” 

The hand reached back again pushing him back down and out of the way. 

“He’s not going anywhere with you.” 

Knots filled his cramping stomach but the man didn’t look away from the guards. Peter could feel the understanding between them at his words but what did he mean? They followed orders. It was his lone directive in this place. Didn’t the man know what would happen if he didn’t? Didn’t he realize the results would be worse than death? Still the solid hand stayed firm on his shoulder. The guards signaled to open the bars and a bush fell across them all. 

Under the harsh overhead lights, Peter began to wish he was nothing more than an apparition so he could disappear into the darkness and hid in the cracks and crevices instead of being in this cell. His muscles never felt so tight and he had to force his fingers out of a fist. He wondered how much trouble he would be in if he used his strength in front of the man. 

The man’s hand left his shoulder and reached into his back pocket as the bars began opening. Peter tried to decipher through all the chaos, to plan how to proceed but everything was happening too quickly. He watched as the man’s hand emerged holding something. The man switched his grip, steadying himself with a deep breath, and struck. He slammed the metal object into Peter’s neck. The metal cold on first contact turned warm in a second before sending fire through his skin. It seared through him burning everything in its path. Tears fell down his face and he fought against the pain but the man continued to hold the metal there as the bars stopped their movement and the door was opened. 

The guards were five steps away. It would take two seconds to cross the cell and everything would be over. Instead, the man jumped from him, ripping the metal off of his neck and plunging it into the eye of one of the guards. A whimper tore from Peter as he clamped a hand on the charred skin of his neck. He made no other movement otherwise. Before he would have hoped it would signal he wasn’t in compliance but now, futile though it was, he wished for a light punishment. 

The man pushed the guard down with a punch and one less viable eye before moving to the next one. They were scrambling to slow into motion and blood splattered onto the walls as one of the guard’s nose broke on impact. With a groan he started to crumple to the ground and the man used his unsteady balance to push him into his last opponent before using the metal device on the last man’s neck to knock him out. 

He crossed the cell in four steps and was in front of Peter before he could blink. Hands grabbed his shoulders and before he could rear back, he was being pulled onto his feet. The man spoke to him in quiet tones, whispering as they moved, but Peter couldn’t hear them over the buzzing in his ears. He could smell the burnt skin and blood permeating the air in the cell. The lights erased all the shadows making it difficult to look away from the bodies on the floor. There was nowhere to hid with the shadows gone. 

The man disappeared and Peter was alone in the room. His eyes moved from body to body in an endless cycle. It was difficult from his spot to tell if they were alive. Continuous dregs of blood leaked onto the floor, but there was no other movement from any of the bodies. 

Something touched his arm and the man reappeared at his side. He took Peter by the shoulders, strong hands impossibly gentle, and guided him out into the space between the bars and outer door. Peter turned his head to stare back into the cell. He looked past the bodies, accepting with resignation their fate, toward the seat five paces into the cell where the man should have been sitting earlier. The tray was still there balanced precariously on the edge; a breath away from tipping to the floor. The restraints were chained to the cement to the right of the tray, well-used from the looks of the browning material. 

“Need to get you out of here now. I have someone waiting so if we make it past the second outpost it should be clear sailing from there.” He said between breaths. 

He tried to Peter’s hand but Peter jerked away. Go? Where would he go? It was an incomprehensible notion. He didn’t want to. There was too much hope in the man’s eyes. A sparkle resided there that threatened to send more tears to his eyes. Their expression held a note of familiarity in them and Peter almost didn’t want to crush it. But this asinine plan would never work and everyone involved, namely Peter, would be worse off at the end of it all. 

No, it was impossible. 

The man’s eyes pleaded with him. 

Didn’t he know that no one could offer Peter his freedom? Didn’t he know Peter deserved to rot in a cell like the one they were in now? 

“… no time!” The man yelled and suddenly his hand clamped around Peter’s. They were moving, running. Two steps out of the bars and then out of the door into the hallway. 

Peter lost track of how many steps they took or the corners they turned around. All he was aware of was the warm hand pulling him forward. Every time Peter pulled back or turned to stop their escape the hand gripped him tighter and continued to pull him along. Into new hallways and corridors, they went. Their steps heavy against the tiled floors and Peter watched, almost from a distance, as no one stopped them, no one interrupted their movement. 

Peter felt as if the sands of time were spiraling past him, pulling him too fast to concentrate. This person who was no more than an apparition to Peter hours before now was the closet person he knew. How could something as small as a gentle squeeze dissolve Peter’s temptation to pull back and cringe away? His own enhanced strength lay dormant uncaring Peter was being kidnapped. 

Cold wind knocked through his skin. They were outside and still the hand continued to pull him away from the order of his life. He didn’t know how many steps it would take to get to where they were going. He didn’t even know where that was. What he tried to connive himself was that he didn’t want to go there to a place away from the order and regiment; away from his atonement. Still, the hand pulled him into the chaos, and cold, and headfirst into the world. 

“I’m going to save you.” The man whispered. 

His eyes widened at the familiar saying. One he said once upon a time. One whose consequences led him to the cell he was being dragged from at that very moment and, as the hand tore him away from the cell, Peter was swept away into his memories.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much!
> 
> Let me know what you think of the story so far! More interactions next chapter!


	3. Broken Promises

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all! Here is chapter three and the third installment of Whumptober: held at gunpoint, forced to their knees.

Previously -  
“I’m going to save you.” The man whispered.

His eyes widened at the familiar saying. One he said once upon a time. One whose consequences led him to the cell he was being dragged from at that very moment and, as the hand tore him away from the cell, Peter was swept away into his memories.

-

Peter was the friendly, neighborhood Spiderman. 

He prided himself on helping the people of and surrounding his burrow with their daily routines. While other superheroes were out fighting aliens in interplanetary disputes, he was helping Mrs. Rotin bring her bi-weekly order of groceries and dog food in from the stoop or sitting with Luke on the subway from stop 116 to 242 so the boy could work on his chemistry before returning home. Even with the occasional crimes, most of his days were filled with jobs done, roles filled, and people helped. Peter was fine with that. He served a need and was useful doing it. 

These small involvements passed without incident and Peter fell into a routine. 

It was the end of winter when something changed. 

He was injured. A spare piece of shrapnel had imbedded itself in his side. The sharp intrusion missed any vital organs but it was deep enough to cause worry. Enough for him to be heading home. His sweat suit was slick with blood and singed with holes from other projectiles tore through it. Peter swung to the closest building, catching the moldings before knocking into the window pane. He tugged on them to right his balance and in the process the latches gave. He tumbled inside before he could stop himself, grunting when he hit the floor. 

He slid down the wall under the window as he tried to catch his breath. Blood flowed out of the wound on his side, leaking passed his trembling fingers pressed tight against the throbbing area. The air was dank, still, but unlike opposite of how the room looked it wasn’t stale. There had been movement here. Small disturbances in the way the dust settled on the counters and desks lining the room told him that. 

Something moved to the far side of the room. His neck snapped to the side and he strained to hear the sound again. Prickles tingled along the back of his neck. 

There it was! Another low sound caught his attention through the door on the other side of the room. He took a deep breath in to prepare himself to move when something stopped him. There was something another sound, underneath what he originally heard. It was human. Salt wafted in between the notes of dust and remnants of past people in the air. 

Someone was crying.

Peter was up with barely more than a grimace. He dug his fingers into the fat on his thigh. The sharp sensation distracted him from the burning in his side. Enough for him to cross the room but not enough for him to be as silent as he would be at full health. 

The hallway was long, empty, and the number of doors lining it were not worth thinking about at the moment. Not when his attention was focused on the room across from him. The sounds coming from them were louder now. The four steps were done in a blink and he was there breaking the bolted locks. 

At first glance the room was empty. There were no windows or other doors besides the one he was looking in from. It was also void of furniture, but the air was churned up. While he tried to understand these inadequacies, his eyes fell on the huddled shoulders in the corners furthest away from the door opposite him. 

Shaking bodies crowded against each other as small, gaunt faces turned to face him. Their eyes, too large for their youthful faces stared at him. He could see the disbelief and fear radiating from them like they couldn’t believe he was there. Maybe he wasn’t there. Maybe this was all a dream. It was hard to believe he was staring at a group of children locked in a room in some random building he found while he was bleeding out. Maybe it was a hallucination, a vignette of horror, brought on by his injuries. 

His side pulsed. The pain brought him back into the harsh reality. This was no hallucination and those children were no mere illusion. They were real and his senses, strengthened as they were, gave plenty of evidence to that fact. He could smell their tears and traces of blood. He could see their thin figures crusted with dirt and if he moved less than twenty steps forward he would be able to reach out. He could touch a shoulder, hug them tight like May always did to him. 

This was real and the horror of it sunk in with startling clarity. 

He leant against the door and watched them as they watched him. He had to decide what his next actions would be. They needed an escape from this place. He had to save them from whatever secured those locks on the door. The blood continued to trickle down his side, slower now that he started healing but not enough to be of help. There were over twenty heads around the room. Twenty souls counting on him to be strong. 

He was startled out of his plans. A boy no taller than his hip stood beside him. He tugged on Peter’s costume and Peter found himself ignoring the pain to bend down so he was eye-level with the boy. Peter didn’t dare touch him. He couldn’t risk causing any more pain, even inadvertently, but still he found himself reaching out. His hand hovered over the boy’s shoulder until he dropped it to his side. He had to do something to make the boy, to make all of them understand. 

“I will save you.” He said in a low, fervent tone. “Do you understand? I will come back and I will save you.” 

Whispers erupted behind them. The boy’s expression remained blank until, with the dawning of understanding, the first rays of hope crept back into his eyes. He nodded his head. Peter looked to the others imparting what he hoped looked like confidence and strength before checking the hall again. Still empty. 

Something hollow burrowed into his stomach. He ran through the limited options again thinking about his weakened state, the unknown security of the building, timing, and anything else that could go wrong. The conclusion was undesirable but left the most chance for success.

The boy never took his eyes off of him as Peter began to explain. He had to leave but he would be back; prepared and at full strength. All they had to do was hold out until the morning. It wasn’t fair and indecision gnawed at him. He felt cruel asking this of them but it was the best option given everything. 

“Can you do that?” He asked. “I promise I will be back. Can you promise to act natural? Protect to others?” 

The boy nodded and with a grim smile Peter turned to go out the door. 

The promise stirred in his chest. It connected him with those children, urging him onward in a way he’d never felt before. His path was difficult but clear to him now. 

He crossed the hall and crept back into the room. The window was wavering open from the breeze outside. His hands trembled at his sides as he leapt from the window and into the night. Doubts plagued him from all sides. 

The window to his bedroom was open and he saw May sitting on the fire escape. Her legs crossed in front of her with a book in hand. She took one look at his mask, the rips and stains marring it, and opened the first aid kit sitting next to her on the stair above her feet. 

“What was it this time? I told you to get a bullet proof vest, the police have the budget for a missing one.” She said, worry in her eyes despite the light tone.

“Kids.” He rasped. 

“Please don’t tell me there will be more little Peters running about. I have enough trouble keeping track of you.” Her smile brought a pang to his heart and he almost didn’t tell her, didnt say anything but the promise led him on.

“No, I found kids, May. Locked in a warehouse. They were… they were filthy and scared. And I just couldn’t do anything. But I have to do something. Sew me up, glue it shut for all I care and then I can go back. I have to… May, I promised. Please.” 

Tears welled in his eyes and spilled over onto his cheeks. May brought her hand and gripped the bottom of his mask. With slow motions she worked it over his chin until it popped over his head. Static raised his hair and she smoothed it down with her hand. They moved to his cheeks to wipe away the tear tracks spreading down his face. She held a gentle expression. That and her small touches grounded him to the present. 

“Alright, you need to explain everything in more detail and I need to stitch up that wound. If you tell me it’s nothing more than a scratch I will ground you, Peter.” 

She listened to his explanation and came to know the reality he had witnessed. Her face blurred as he continued. He lost consciousness as May plunged the needle into his side. 

Peter awoke in his bed to the sun streaming into his room. His window was open and with a small stretch he spied his aunt sleeping in what she called her ‘lookout spot’. Her neck was bent at an odd angle. May’s head would hurt during the day, he’d slip her a Tylenol at breakfast, make extra fluffy waffles, and hope there would be no need for her to sit, waiting, in his chair again. 

He felt his side; Palpated around the band aid May must have applied last night. It was sore but he already felt loads better than before. Peter went through the plan in his mind. He formulated everything that needed to be done. The promise he made last night sat heavy in his gut. It’s protruding girth made from his words obvious with every movement he made. 

Less than thirty minutes later, there was a note for May and a half-eaten piece of toast left sitting on the edge of the counter. He was on his way to the police station. The address and notes of what he remembered of last night burned a hole through his pocket. 

Another thirty minutes later Peter was sitting on a bench, hands on covering his face. “We don’t take kindly to pranks” they said and when he wouldn’t leave, when he waved the papers full of details in their faces, they threatened him with a charge of harassment. He slipped the papers onto one of the detective’s desks as they escorted him out. 

It didn’t matter, he thought. He could do it himself. 

Wiping his face on the back of his sleeve, Peter got up and found his way to the nearest alley. The suit looked worse in the daylight. He clutched it close to his chest before slipping it back on. Buildings passed in a blur. All Peter could think about were those kids. The flash of curiosity in his scrunched nose as Peter explained his plan. The sprig of hope in the boy’s eyes.

This was his biggest job and largest responsibility. He wouldn’t let them down. 

The window was unlocked and raced through the room and hallway without another thought. He crossed into the next room, crushing the handle in his fist. 

To find nothing. 

No windows, no beds or couches or chairs. No children. There was nothing there. 

He had a brief, wild, thought that maybe this was the state of how the room always was. The air smelled of dust and nothing else. There was no movement. 

Only silence. 

The twenty-five steps between the entry window and the door across the hallway changed everything. At the beginning he clung to the promise growing in his gut. It was the promise he could and would fulfill. At the other end there was… nothing. It shattered into a million pieces, exploding into his stomach and tearing through his chest. 

Peter clenched his teeth together. He raced down the hallway, breaking down the doors in the hallway. All of them were empty. 

He took off toward his apartment. Why was nothing going to plan? The police didn’t care. Someone found out. They must have. The kids were gone. 

His promise was broken. 

The fire escape rattled under him and he jumped through his window. He didn’t glance at his unmade bed or the homework stacked on his desk. Peter barged into the living room focused on finding May. If he would have stopped he would have sensed a disturbance. He would have smelled the blood. 

A man stood in the living room. His muscles bulged under his dark clothes and it took a moment for Peter to realize he was holding a gun. It took another second to see who the gun was aimed at. 

“It’s okay, Peter.” May said from where she was kneeling on the ground. Her hands rested on her knees. In another situation she would have looked to be in meditation, but the hand griping her shoulder and the gun angled at her head screamed of the wrongness of that. This wasn’t a meditation and again Peter was struck with the brutality of the real world. 

“May…” He said, voice breaking. 

“I love you, sweetie.” May said, her eyes welling with tears streaming down her face. 

In his haste to find May, he ignored all their protocols set in place when May found out he was Spiderman. He didn’t notice the set of lights on in the window that meant it wasn’t safe to enter the apartment. He didn’t patrol the perimeter or call May’s phone. He did nothing he was supposed to in the haste to find someone. 

It was like a dam broke and everything was bubbling out of it. The empty room, the broken promise, and now this. The horror was infecting all the aspects of his life. As he stared at the helpless expression on May’s face, he suddenly wondered if it wasn’t the promise that was creating this infection. Maybe the virus was him? Maybe it was his fault this man was in their living room, threatening his loved one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next one should be up tomorrow and from there on I'll try to update this every other day. 
> 
> Please leave me a review and let me know what you think! Thank you for reading :)


	4. Running out of Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all. Hope you are doing well!
> 
> Please reference the updated tags. Trigger warning for character death in this chapter.

Previously – 

A man stood in the living room. His muscles bulged under his dark clothes and it took a moment for Peter to realize he was holding a gun. It took another second to see who the gun was aimed at. 

“It’s okay, Peter.” May said from where she was kneeling on the ground. Her hands rested on her knees. In another situation she would have looked to be in meditation, but the hand griping her shoulder and the gun angled at her head screamed of the wrongness of that. This wasn’t a meditation and again Peter was struck with the brutality of the real world. 

“May…” He said, voice breaking. 

“I love you, sweetie.” May said, her eyes welling with tears streaming down her face. 

In his haste to find May, he ignored all their protocols set in place when May found out he was Spiderman. He didn’t notice the set of lights on in the window that meant it wasn’t safe to enter the apartment. He didn’t patrol the perimeter or call May’s phone. He did nothing he was supposed to in the haste to find someone. 

It was like a dam broke and everything was bubbling out of it. The empty room, the broken promise, and now this. The horror was infecting all the aspects of his life. As he stared at the helpless expression on May’s face, he suddenly wondered if it wasn’t the promise that was creating this infection. Maybe the virus was him? Maybe it was his fault this man was in their living room, threatening his loved one. 

-

Peter launched forward. His eyes were glued to his aunt’s face as he jumped over the couch. He saw the dilation in her pupils as he got closer and the way her brow furrowed when the man pulled her hair. It was like he was in a dream. Racing forward, running through air that acted more like sludge. No matter how hard he tried, his movements kept getting slower and slower until he was racing backwards instead of forward. He’d dreamed that so many times he lost track. Every time he woke up covered in sweat May would be there with warm, open arms and a listening ear. 

Their eyes stayed locked when the gun went off. He saw her eyes change. She looked through him instead of at him. A sickening crunch sounded off when her head snapped to the side. 

Time ran out. 

Was Peter back in a dream? He wasn’t running, he was just frozen in place. Stuck forever in that moment. He was jumping over the couch. The gun fired. May’s eyes changed. Peter watched the last thirty seconds over. Again and again and again.

Until, like everything, the sands of time began to pass. Blood dripped down the walls of their apartment and Peter could move again. He flew at the man standing there. Fury wrapped around him like armor. A terrible shriek echoed out from him. He punched the man once before he was knocked down. He peered up from the ground as the man grabbed May by her hair and pulled her forward. Peter watched as her lifeless head strained up in front of him. 

“Stop…” He groaned. 

The man shook her head and dropped her back to the floor. 

“Stop what you little bitch? She can’t feel anything.” 

Peter’s eyes filled with tears. He lunged forward only to be pulled back. Hands gripped his arms and even with his strength nothing he did loosened his grip. Metal clamps circled his wrists. He was shoved onto the couch. The spot was perfect and he hated it. Hated how he could see the man who invaded their apartment, hated how he could see the strands of hair loose in May’s ponytail. 

Why wouldn’t she lift her head from the floor?

The door to their apartment opened. He smelled the newest person right before he heard their footsteps. Crips peppermint stung his nostrils. A tall, bulky man came into view followed by two more men in black suits. His thick mustache dominated his lower face while his eyes, grey and piercing commanded the room the instant he laid eyes on it. 

The man didn’t look at May. His eyes regarded Peter with a cool detachment that made Peter’s stomach flip. He could feel the centuries of hatred residing within this man. He was not someone who could love. 

Peter flinched into the couch. His head pushed into the puke green material and remember how insistent May had been about saying it was olive green. Her chest would puff out as she lectured him of the differences and importance of colors. How in flowers they could mean different things and how in their living room, the green would bring a sense of calm and security to their busy lives. He refused to believe she would never lecture him again. 

The man dragged a dining chair out from the kitchen. He placed it in front of him and sat down. They were close enough their knees touched. 

Peter wanted to throw up.

“Now, who do we have here?” He asked and held a hand out. 

One of the men dressed in black passed him a manila envelope. The man with the mustache licked his thumb before paging through the file. His eyes flickered up to Peter throughout his inspection but he refused to look up into those eyes. 

“Peter Parker.” He said at last. It broke the unbearable, heavy silence in the room. “We’ve been trying to find you for ages and to think you’re the Spiderman as well is just an added bonus.”

Peter’s brows furrowed at his words. 

“First things in order. I’m General Ross. I have a special interest in enhanced individuals and I have a special interest in you, Peter. You see, I’ve seen what can happen when someone like you loses control and is left to wander through the time with no thought of the consequences. It’s not kind to them… or their loved ones.” 

The man brushed his moustache down regarding him. He sighed and clapped his hands on his knees. 

“People like this one.” He said walking over to stand by May. He nudged her side and she rolled over so her face was toward Peter. It took everything in him not to scream. He fisted his hands so tight they left imprints on the skin of his palms. 

“Who is she?” Ross asked. 

Peter ignored him again and when he thought the man would give up, he struck. It was an easy display of strength and cruelty. It was sick. Wrong. 

He grabbed May be the hair and pulled her head up. Her body moved like a puppet on a set of strings. There was no expression or light in her face. There was nothing there and he almost couldn’t recognize her. This time, Peter did throw up. The sick splattered all over her olive-green couch and more tears fell at the burning in his throat. He wiped his mouth on his sleeve ignoring the pain in his wrist. 

When he caught his breath, he screamed at Ross: “Don’t touch her. I’ll fucking kill you if you lay a hand on her again.” 

Ross laughed. He dropped her onto the ground with a thud and her hair fell covering her face from view. 

“This is only the start. It will always follow you. Death, that is. It will follow you through time and space because of who you are. There is no point in trying to change anything. Your efforts will not produce the results you want. Nothing will be different. Remember these words, Peter Parker.” 

Peter sobbed. Tears stung his eyes as gross hiccupping noises came from his mouth. 

“Shut him up.” 

Someone walked around the couch. Peter let them hit his head. His head bounced off the back of the couch but it didn’t matter. 

“You need to listen to me Peter.” He said again. Ross sat down in front of Peter but he was done listening. It didn’t matter. Nothing did without May. Peter fought. He kicked and screamed; spit at Ross yelling every hateful word he could think of. The chains snapped but something was grabbed onto him, holding him away from Ross. 

“He’s in no state to continue this conversation. Chip him and we’ll be back.” Something hit him again but Peter kept fighting. He didn’t care if they hurt him. He wanted them to. Maybe then time wouldn’t just stop, maybe then it would rewind and he could save May. 

He felt a needle pierce his neck and then there was nothing. No pain or hurt. The past 24 hours hadn’t happened and he was waiting for May to come back to the living room with popcorn for their movie night. 

He felt a needle in his neck and the next there was nothing. There was no pain, or hurt. Time would repeat itself when he awoke but for now, the past 24 hours hadn’t happened. He was lying on the couch, waiting for May to come back with popcorn for their movie night. 

-

Peter awoke screaming. His legs thrashed and kicked causing him to fall on the floor. The carpet scrapped his skin and chin. He opened his eyes. The room was normal. The chair, the table, the TV. Everything was exactly how it was before. The spot where… it happened. Where his life had ended. 

He was too late. The moment it all mattered and he wasn’t there in time to stop it. Peter didn’t have the power to change anything in the end. Not his strength or healing or abilities. Nothing helped. 

He pounded his fist into the carpet over and over until it was red and swollen. His forehead hit the ground. Endless tears soaked into the carpet, smearing down his face. His knees scrapped the floor as he crawled forward to the phone sitting on the coffee table. Should he call someone? Who would he even call? Underneath the phone was a paper. 

In poorly written script it said: We’ll help you so nobody else gets hurt -TR

He crumpled the note in his hand. He couldn’t believe that nothing from last night was there in the apartment. No blanket unfolded, no book out of place. It was wrong. Peter got up from the ground, rubbing his sore wrists as he walked to the door without looking back. 

Hours went by as snow and cold breezes blew past his spot on the sidewalk. Finally, a nondescript car pulled up to the side of the street. Peter climbed into the car. He spared one last glance up to his apartment. The first aid box was still sitting on the fire escape where May had left it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading.
> 
> Please let me know what you think.


	5. Honey Bear and Tony to the Rescue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all. Hope you are enjoying. This covers day five of Whumptober: Rescue, On the Run, and Where do you think you're going?

Winter, 2017. Hours into Kidnapping.

-

He stumbled into a car waiting outside the door. Someone caught the top of his head from hitting the door frame and guided him into a seat. His head rolled back in exhaustion. The side of his neck, burnt and sore, was exposed to the warm air in the car. It prickled at the burns but Peter didn’t try to move away. 

“Jesus, Tony. Why the hell do you have a kid with you? And what did you do to him? These are serious burns.”

“It’s a rescue! I couldn’t leave him there. Do you see how young he is?” 

Peter could feel the eyes resting on his frame. His eyes flickered to the seat in front of him where a man was observing him before falling to look out the window. Away from his cell and that place he was untethered. The tiny world he’d become used to, the one he expected to see every morning when he opened his arms, was gone. In place there were leather seats underneath him in an impossibly nice car. There were two men staring at him. 

They talked between themselves. There was an insistent, familiar tone in their words that Peter hadn’t witnessed in a long time. They made no effort to calm their voices or lower them for his benefit and the anger underlying their greeting was eclipsed by warmth. It was almost pleasant to sit there and listen as they debated what to do next. If they weren’t trying to factor in his unexpected presence that is. 

“Fine, Tone. We can’t sit here and argue the whole night. Let’s go.” 

Someone in the front put the car in drive. Peter sat up. His muscles coiled tight. He reached for the door before fisting his hands and clenching them in his lap. His inaction had been too long. 

“I need to go back.” He said, eyes darting between the men. Maybe he could persuade him but there was no leeway the face from the man in the cell so he turned to the new person. “Please, I shouldn’t be here. You can’t let this …. I’m being kidnapped… I… Ross!” He finally settled on the name that would stir fear into anyone. “Ross knows. He’ll find me.”

“Fuck him!” His kidnapper snapped and crossed his arms. The other man stared at him for a moment, his eyes softened for a moment before he turned to the cell man. Maybe he was imagining things now. They were conversing in that way old friends did. Their words flowed in silence, moving between their eyes. Every second it went on, the car got farther away. Peter couldn’t see the building anymore. He didn’t know where they were. 

Finally, the connection broke. The man from the cell opened a compartment under the seat and pulled out a cell phone. He settled back into the seat and began typing not acknowledging Peter’s outburst. 

The car sped away taking all semblance of time away. It spun out of control. He couldn’t tell if hours passed or seconds as the wheels spun. The man, his captor, exuded a willful ignorance. He didn’t care that he had kidnapped Peter; that Peter didn’t want to leave that place. It was only under the dim lights of the car the man began to relax. His tense form slumping against the seat until he was nearly as boneless as Peter. Who was he? Why did he get to relax when Peter was as tense as he’d ever been and no one was answering him? 

A hand touched his knee and Peter flinched back. The new man rested his hand there and then pulled back once he saw Peter knew he wasn’t going to hurt him.

“What’s your name?” He asked. 

“Look, please…”

“It will all be okay. Whatever it is you think you deserve, whatever happened, we can figure it out but I need to be sure.”

His wide eyes told no lies but they also held no room for argument. Their expression reminded him of May. The back of his throat closed at the thought. He licked his lips and looked away to hid his discomfort. 

“Peter. Peter Parker.” 

The man nodded and his eyes flickered over to the man on the cell phone who just continued typing. 

“My name is James Rhodes but you can call me Rhodey.” 

“Or Honey Bear if he’s angry.” The other man side with a smirk. He winked at Peter paying no attention to the sigh coming from his friend and went back to his phone. 

“Just wait until you see me angry.” 

Despite everything Peter felt the beginnings of a smile on his face at their banter. 

“This is Tony and you’ll have to forgive his egregious manners. I mean kidnapping? Really Tony?” 

The man, Tony he reminded himself, huffed but didn’t look the least bit bothered. In fact, Peter was sure he was the beginning of something, pride maybe, at the thought of his new rap sheet. The two talked of plans and locations, all undecipherable to him. Still, he listened with rapt attention trying to find out any bit of information he could. 

Peter felt the wheels turning underneath them and decided that time was slowing in this strange, little world they were in. The three of them in the back of some car. Two friends, one stranger. Two inmates, one free. Three people thrown together and he was the odd man out. To their credit he didn’t feel excluded. They sort of enveloped him. Their eyes flitted over to him to make sure he was listening. The conversation kept him from getting bogged down with thoughts on his mind and Peter found himself nodding to the occasional question. 

He decided that this whole situation was like Schrodinger’s cat. He didn’t know where he was going or who they were and once they left the car anything could happen. He could assume the best and worst outcomes at the same time. Strange but it seemed either was possible. He deserved the worse and if it was better, he could go back to that place. His stomach dropped. Somehow the thought wasn’t as satisfying as he thought it would be. 

The car entered an underground garage. They drove down and wove through various levels until, after presenting a badge to some tough looking security, they parked in a walled off section separate from the others. It was a bit anticlimactic to be honest. Peter expected a highspeed road chase when they escaped. 

“Let’s go.” James Rhodes said. 

Peter’s head pounded from earlier. It was difficult to keep track of what turns they made and the stairs they took. Some they walked up and others they went down. He managed to keep track of the two left turns and one flight of stairs up when they finally stopped at their final destination. Rhodes scanned something against the wall, though Peter could see no markings on the wall. 

The room beyond the corridor was humble in space and as of the ‘90s it would have been considered in style. The base furniture all looked high end but there were touches of teenager spread throughout. Peter spied a fun phone in the corner in the shape of a faded burger and a deflated bundle of plastic shoved in the corner that in another life was a seat. Fake fruit was in three different bowls scattered around the room. The whole effect was of a room of two times. The air was stale but lacked that distance he normally read in new spaces. He circled the room noticing the picture frames, some featuring Tony and Rhodes. The cushions had divots in the middle with fabric frayed on the edges. Peter could see the scuff marks on the corners of the walls leading into an unlit hallway. 

He liked it.

“Alright there, Peter?” 

Tony was observing him from the counter in the kitchen. The man looked at home lounging against the island and why wouldn’t he be? Everything indicated he spent time here in the past. The air thickened with the question and the outside world pushed in. Time sped up, piled higher as it fell, as Peter thought of what was happening outside. 

It was almost a foreign concept. In the past he had made the outside world distant by forgetting about it. The memories were too tempting so he forced himself to stop thinking of his life. Of his family. But in the process of shunning that part of himself, Peter ignored everyone else’s life as well. Maybe that was why he assumed Tony was no more than an apparition at first? Here in this room he couldn’t ignore the past. Peter ran his hand across a pillow on the couch trying to straighten its fabric. 

The couch was the same color as the couch in his old apartment. It was a puke green that May loved so much. They spent weekends cuddled up on the couch watching TV together. He was sure after all this time there was popcorn and snacks forgotten in the cracks. It was the same couch he’d woken cold and numb pressed against on the floor. The same one with blood splatter ruining the color with dark red. He turned away and shrugged. 

He wished he was back in his cell, forgotten and forgetting. 

“You should take me back, Sir.” His back faced Tony so he missed the wince cross the man’s face. 

“I can’t do that. No matter what you think it was wrong for you to be there.” 

Peter shrugged again and the man sighed. He tried to hand Peter a glass but his hand was shaking too much to grab it. 

“Alright, it’s been a long day. Let me show you to your room. Unless you’re hungry? No, I didn’t think so. Well, there’s food in the kitchen if you need anything.” 

-

The air sparked with tension. Peter followed Tony down the hall and fought the urge to look into the rooms as they passed. One door was open and he saw Rhodes sitting at a desk behind a computer. 

“Kid, needs to sleep. I’m giving him the blue room.” 

“We’ll talk later. Sleep well, Peter.” The man responded with a smile. Peter nodded but kept his face blank. 

The room was plain and simple. There was another picture frame on the tall dresser but he didn’t take the time to study it. He sat on the edge of the bed and focused on Tony who was lingering in the doorway. The man ran a hand through his hair and mumbled something before leaving. The bedding was a dark blue color. Worn and cool to his touch. His eyes landed on the balcony covered by drapes in his perusal of the room. 

“Shouldn’t go out there tonight but in a couple days it should be safe enough.” Tony was back, carrying something in his hand. He hesitated but walked five steps over to him and sat on the end of the bed. Far enough that Peter could breathe evenly. 

He carried various first aid bits and for a moment Peter was on the fire escape. May was about to take off his mask and disinfect his wounds. 

“I am sorry about the burn.” Tony said as he brought out the supplies. “I needed to stop them from tracking you and there was no time. Still,” He said and reflexively winced as Peter did. “I’m sorry.”

Peter shrugged. His neck throbbed as the man began dabbing it. He hated to compare but Tony was almost more tender with May. At least in the beginning. When he first became Spiderman, she was frustrated he’d been hurt again or frantic and would try to do everything at once. It took time for her to accept his propensity for flying around the city in spandex and how that habit would get him hurt from time to time. 

“Must not have been as deep as I thought, a lot of the tissue isn’t burned too badly.” 

Peter froze. He nodded and forced himself to breath out so Tony wouldn’t notice. That was another one of May and his rules: don’t tell anyone. Don’t let them know he was different. Ross knew but that was okay because by that point he deserved it. Tony didn’t and couldn’t know because something bad could happen. He shrugged again jarring the hand disinfecting the burn. He would hide his neck until it was feasible it was healed. 

“That’s the best I can do for now. Here are some pain relievers and I’ll get you a glass of water. We’ll have to change the wrappings again. Burns can get infected easily.” 

He came back from the bathroom and Peter drank deeply. Exhaustion hit him. All of the events of the day came rushing back to him. He’d been kidnapped by this stranger in front of him and now he was offering to change Peter’s band aids like he wasn’t the one who gave him the wound. The anger was there, itching under his skin but not as much as he thought. Peter couldn’t summon the strength to do anything besides stare. 

“If you need anything, I most likely won’t be sleeping so you can come get me and Rhodey. Anything you need… And, well, I’m not really sorry about the whole kidnapping thing but I’m here for what it’s worth.” 

Peter stared at the man with a scrunched brow. Tony was almost blushing. He shrugged with a smile and closed the door behind him. Peter just continued to stare at the closed door. Maybe he would come back in, guns blazing, and demand action. Maybe he would act like a kidnapper would instead of like a concerned adult. 

Peter got up and paced the room before shoving the curtains aside. He unlatched the door and tried to open it but it wouldn’t move. There was some type of invisible lock like the one to get into the apartment. He supposed he could break it open but something stopped him. A twinge resounded at the thought of running the room. He didn’t want glass to spread onto the floor or get on the bedspread. It had to be the fatigue, there was no other reason. 

“Where do you think you’re going?” He said to the empty room. 

Peter fell back onto the bed, his back sinking into the mattress. 

Time slowed again. What should do was go through all of his options. If he could sift through his next steps, tomorrow would be easier to handle. But his neck burned and his body was heavy on the bed. In these strangers’ apartment staled by time but full of home, Peter fell asleep thinking of the Sunday mornings spent on the couch May swore was olive green.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading.
> 
> Let me know what you think.


	6. Dreams

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who has been reading. Here is day six of Whumptober: "Stop Please" and our 6th chapter of this story. It's a day late in my posting schedule but I finished the rough draft of all the chapters so it should be regular from now on.
> 
> Tw: Mentions of character death

He was back in his cell. 

There were leather restraints around his wrists connecting to the wall behind him. Peter was in the center of the room, about five steps from the door, but it could have been a million miles and it wouldn’t have made any difference. If there was no lock and the door was opened wide, he wouldn’t have left. 

Smoke filtered through the gaps and crevices in the walls. It snacked on along the ground, gaining momentum and building higher. Peter got to his legs and tried to stand on the cement seat under him but the cuffs restricted his movement. The smoke climbed higher and higher, and he strained his face up to the cleaner air but every breath added a new layer thick smog coating his lungs. His eyes watered and his throat closed. He was so lightheaded he fainted, his arms were behind him tugging on the restraints. Peter fell into darkness. 

He was floating. No, he was falling. Air breezed around him. Its gusts billowed through his clothes and into his skin. The temperature of this weightless atmosphere chilled him to the bone. The ground rose up to greet him; fast until nothing could stop it. His arms flailed around. He tried to grab onto something but he was alone. They moved forward in hopes of bracing his fall and Peter’s breath was knocked out of him on impact. With a groan he curled into himself. It was a pitiful attempt to protect himself. He blinked and the emptiness was gone. 

Peter was lying on the floor in his living room. Footsteps moved down the hallway slow and heavy. He sat up, sending stars in his vision, and moved away from the intruder as fast as he could. His back collided with the couch but he forced himself to still. 

May walked in with a bowl of popcorn in her hands.

“What are you doing down there, sweetheart?” She said indicating with a nod his crouched position on the floor. 

The air caught in his chest at her appearance. She came over to him, sitting the popcorn down on the small coffee table and grabbing the controller. Instead of moving back to the couch, May sat next to him on the floor before grabbing the popcorn back. She passed him the bowl; it was just salty enough and flavor combined with the orange juice that appeared on the coffee table perfectly. Her eye brows furrowed when he missed whatever she said to him. He was too busy staring at her.

Peter reached out. His hand hovered over her skin before he pressed it against her cheek; eyes widening at the warmth that felt real. His vision blurred with forming tears but before she could see his wonder he closed his eyes. If he could remember the smile on her face as she walked into the room and spied him on the ground he would be forever grateful to whatever this torture was. 

Her skin turned cold under his hand and the air grew dense. It pressed against him, weighing so heavy on his hand he was tempted to take it off her cheek. But he couldn’t let that happen. She would be gone again if he did and so he held on. 

Gravity turned and he was lying on the ground again. Apprehension tickled his mind but he opened his eyes and found himself next to May. Her expression wasn’t anything like he knew before. May’s eyes were dull with glassy smog hiding them. She was on the ground with her hand tucked under her body. The base of her arms sitting in a pool of dark liquid. His hand, still resting on the side of her face, was covering something lumpy and there was a sticky material connecting them. It was the same liquid on the ground. He pulled his hand away. The bodies temperature was cold and there was maroon stained on his palm. It dribbled out of the perforated wound on the side of her head. This was not the May he was trying to remember. 

“No.” He screamed out, fisting his other knuckles into his mouth. “Please… Please, stop.”

He didn’t know who he was yelling at or if they would hear. Fresh wounds of grief tore into his chest and the yelling helped numb him. He screamed again. Peter became an outlet for the emotions welling inside of him. Incoherent words and noises tumbled out of his mouth until his throat seized and he was voiceless against the pain. 

Something landed on his shoulder.

Rhodes was staring at him from beside the bed. He opened his eyes with the dream with on his mind. His hand tingled and he scrambled up. Peter pushed the covers down, ignoring the sweat stains on them and stared at his palm. There was no trace of blood. It was truly just a dream. 

His hands fell beside him and he stared at the wall. 

The torrent residing in him spoke to more than a dream. They were almost memories and he lost himself in them; welcomed the searing burn as they trickled out of the corners of his mind. Rhodes continued to sit next to him without speaking. He placed a hand on Peter’s shoulder and the weight brought him back to reality, back to the blue room. 

The correct course of action would be to politely shake the hand off, thank the man, and be done with it. It wasn’t right to take comfort from strangers, to burden them with problems that weren’t their own. You could be sitting right next to someone but be worlds away when it mattered.

But then Peter remembered his fourteenth birthday. He’d been a freshman in high school and like middle school, the odd man out. He had no friends to speak of, ate in the bathroom enough to have concern for the hygiene of doing so, and rode the subway there and back alone. Second semester rolled around and they changed seat partners in biology. He was partnered with a kid named Ned. He was a talker and throughout their classes he drew Peter in. 

More often than not they finished with their labs earlier than their classmates. The term was ending. On that day, Peter was preoccupied with his coming birthday and how it landed in summer. He would have to do it then and there. Peter glanced at Ned under his eye lashes and grasped the table with his hands. Ned continued to chat away about how Peter should join some club he was in after school. He wore an easy smile. It never failed to make him feel warm and although they only knew each other through school, Peter couldn’t help but want to see if they could become real friends. 

“Hey, uh, Ned. Do you maybe want to hang out? And-and want to come over for cake in August?” 

Ned smirked as they began packing their bags.

“Is this a roundabout way of inviting me to your birthday? I know it’s August10th.” 

“How do you- Oh, Mr. Harrington’s board, right?” 

“Yep and I’ve been wanting to ask if you were doing something for the longest time. I just didn’t know how.” He said rubbing the back of his neck before chuckling. “So, this is great. Be warned my mom makes the best cassava cake and I’ll probably bring enough for an army.” 

Peter couldn’t wait to tell May. True enough, a month and many hangouts outside of school later, Ned arrived carrying two plates of the delicious cake. His family sat around him. They sang much to his embarrassment and he and Ned shared a look at May’s attempts to document the whole night with her camera. 

Later, tucked away in their sleeping bags they whispered about their summer plans and the distant school year. It was quiet for a moment; the air full between them and Peter couldn’t keep the smile off his face. Ned turned around to face him. Peter mimicked the action, tucking his elbow to prop his head up. 

“Hey Peter.” He said. 

“Hey Ned.” 

“I wanted to say thanks man, for inviting me. I know it’s not cool to say and all, but I’d been thinking all winter semester how to ask you to hang out and never got out the nerve. I’m, uh, really glad we’re friends.” 

Ned smiled again and turned over. Peter swallowed. He scooted his bedding closer and with un unsure hand he reached to rest of on Ned’s shoulder. His friend’s muscles relaxed with a sigh and Peter closed his eyes in sleep. 

The air in the blue bedroom was not full of blossoming friendship like it had been that night many years ago. Peter’s muscles were tense under Rhodes’ hand. His energy unwelcoming to the man’s help. But still he remained next to him providing a lifeline away from his dreams and memories. 

He had butterflies in his stomach before reaching out to Ned. He could also remember his friend’s bashful smile under the Christmas lights in his room. Peter wondered if Rhodes was feeling the same nervous vulnerability of reaching out to someone new even though he was an adult. And he knew how Ned felt. The same sense of appreciation made him fidget for this stranger next to him. 

In the cold hours of the morning, nightmares and memories all mangled in his mind, Peter didn’t feel alone for the first time in a long time. He stared out at the lake, barely visible through the gaps in the curtains, and admired the desolate environment. The wind blew moving the snow around and a bush still with bits of green sat unswayed by the cold. 

“Thank you.” He whispered into his pillow. He knew the man heard by the gentle squeeze following his words.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know what you think!


	7. He's Warming up to Them

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posting this so late for those of you can't sleep like me! Enjoy.

Winter, 2017. Three days into kidnapping.

-

Peter was going stir-crazy. 

He had lived in that place for so long and never been outside, rarely left the isolation of his cell, and it had never bothered him. He’d preferred the arrangement. The way the walls and hallways never varied. Preferred how easy it made forgetting there was an outside to go to. Now, the apartment flaunted it in his face. The outside world was a hair’s breadth away but it was also against the rules. 

In every new place he lived, Peter liked to figure out the certain protocols established there. May’s rules were different than what he could remember of his parents, and both were nothing like that place. The rules set in place by Rhodes and Tony were easy to follow: don’t go outside. That was their extent and it was foreign to him. Of course, in a rare display of rebellion he wanted to break it. 

The sun skirted around the curtains hiding the blue skies he knew were beyond the window. The harsh bite of the winter wind was no longer a hazy memory, he’d felt it walking to the car. He’d shivered from the breeze blowing against his shaved head. Another rule he didn’t have to follow now, he could grow out his hair. 

Peter was sitting on the chair with cereal. The fruit loops bobbed around each other and he scooped the last sugary circle up before drinking the rest of the milk. Rhodes assured them that almond milk was way better than original milk and Peter ate so fast it didn’t really matter. Cereal was cereal. 

“I don’t know how you can eat that stuff.” Rhodes, now officially Rhodey after Tony made fun of him calling the man Rhodes, said from the couch. Rhodey had insisted on James and even winced when Peter said Rhodes but Peter didn’t want to disrespect him. He avoided looking at the couch and settled staring at the window. 

“I haven’t had this type of pure sugar in so many years,” Heat crept up the back of his neck and onto his cheeks. “I’d forgotten how good it tasted and the power it gives you. I could run a marathon now, I think.” 

The man smiled but fell quickly. Peter’s eyes never moved from the curtains. They swayed from the heat ducts blasting air underneath them giving both occupants of the room a glimpse of the sun. Peter almost asked if he could go on the balcony but his long-standing rule following wouldn’t let him. His legs twitched against the chair. 

Before he could stop he said: “Listen, I’ve been thinking.” Tony walked into the room and groaned at Peter’s hedging statement. 

“Rhodey, tell the kid it’s a dangerous pastime.”

“He’s right, Peter. I know what you’re going to say but first of all you are a minor and secondly, the moment you walked out of here, they would find you. I know we aren’t the hippest but you’ve got to stick with us for now.”

Rhodey looked back to his computer and ignored the scowl on Peter’s face. That’s not what he was going to say at all – probably. Tony came back with a bowl piled high of cereal Peter spotted three different kinds precariously mounded into a hill. Once Rhodey saw it and the cereal bits falling onto the floor, his scowl far exceeded Peter’s.

“I’ll have to write that down.” He said stuffing his mouth full of a fruit loop, marshmallow bite. Rhodey and Peter shared a look not sure what Tony was referencing. “Rhodey here said I was right which is not an everyday occurrence. And look, if we’re going to continue with this whole kidnapping narrative then that makes you the hostage-”

“Tony, stop. You’re continuing to make it sound terrible”

“And if that’s the case then you have to do what we say including but not limited to staying inside for the time being. Although,” He said turning to Rhodey with another full spoon. “We need to work on the next phase.”

Tony had dismissed the whole thing as nonsense. Just because Peter hadn’t raged or fought with them again didn’t mean he accepted being taken from that place. Peter felt a hot tendril of anger begin to stir in his stomach. It would be so easy to lash out again and yell at them. But the last time it happened he had taken it too far and this morning, he was tired. The last dregs of milk sloshed around his bowl creating ripples. 

This morning he chose to reject the hot, slippery feeling. It was too tempting and easy to tap into lately. It also wouldn’t change anything. So, like any other time in his life he would change to his surroundings; adapt and accept. He knew they were going to find him eventually and, after all, it was almost nice living in the apartment. 

After his explosion, the three of them walked on glass around each other. He winced thinking about his hoarse voice and the blame he placed when it had been him at the wrong place and time. The same had happened with May. 

But things shifted after he woke up from the nightmare and found Rhodey beside him. It was such a presence at first. He was so hesitant to take comfort from a stranger but once he looked deep enough he felt traces of May, of Ben, there. It tore at his heart to think about him but they were there in the strong weight of Rhodey’s hand and calming silence sharing in his waking fright. He allowed himself the moments weakness and pretended not to be affected by the genuine smile Rhodey had when Peter thanked him, accepted him. 

Since then Peter observed them. Tony and Rhodey were friends. Somehow the word friends seemed like such an understatement. They told stories of their lives finishing each other’s sentences. They knew each other for lifetimes by the quick banter between them. The familiarity they shared made Peter long for the people from his past but then their eyes strayed to Peter. They smiled with him. They laughed with him. They included him now, in the present. 

Peter was warming to them but his face like it was made of wax. It took him too long to respond or smile back. Their waiting expressions made his palms sweat and when their smiles fell, he always felt like he should do or say something to make them feel better. It wasn’t their fault he was broken. He caught them staring at him when they thought he wasn’t looking, like they were searching for something that wasn’t there. Like they were waiting. 

Peter wasn’t sure for what.

-

He smiled and twirled around like a child with his head up and eyes wide open watching the snowflakes meander through the air. Their small points and axels landed on each of their hats and melted into the material. Peter panted, watching the smoke rise to the sky from his mouth, and grinned at the backs of his chaperones. They spied a series of ice skaters across the lake below the hill they were walking on. 

“I’ve never smelt air so fresh!” He said and spun again. 

“Don’t trip.” Rhodey said while Tony grinned between the two of them. 

The walk had done much to boost his spirits. Their path had led them around the lake and beyond taking the better part of the morning at his insistence. The air nipped and the snow swirled around them but Peter didn’t want to go back to the apartment. He just wanted to breath for a while. 

They marched along the path overlooking the lake visible from the windows of the apartment. The ice wasn’t frozen all the way through yet. Patches of water darkened the surrounding ice near the shore. In less than two months’ time those bits of water and sand would be sealed away, frozen in place until spring thawed them once again. He turned to his keepers, smiling wide despite the fatigue threatening to settle in. 

“Race you back!” He yelled and took off sprinting. A laugh emerged when he heard their protests and the smashing of feet from behind him. He pumped his arms and legs and told the part of himself worried about showing off his unnatural abilities to shut up. His muscles strained under the exercise. Bits of snort ran out of his nose from the cold temperature. It was enough for now. More than enough after days of staying indoors and too long to count before in that place. 

He made it to the gates of the apartment although he was out of breath and sore. Peter braced his hands on his knees as he waited for the other two. Rhodey arrived next, determination in his eyes. 

“As long as I beat Tones, I’m happy.” He said and mimicked Peter’s warm down stretches. 

Said man arrived dramatic as always. He came into the gate at a slow walk; his nose pointed to the sky. 

“I refuse to negotiate with you people. The results don’t count.” He said. 

“Only because you didn’t win.” Rhodey grabbed him by the shoulder’s and gave Tony a noogie. There was a strain to Peter’s smile but he ignored it in favor of watching Tony struggled against the knuckles on his head. Profanities every other word out of his mouth. 

The past couple of days Peter had been fixated on how strangers could come to such familiarity in so short a time. It was a strange transition. One he wasn’t completely sure he knew what he was up against. As of a week ago he’d been convinced he was only ‘warming’ to these people but in the short time he’d been in the apartment everything changed. They opened their arms to him. 

It wasn’t anything obvious or some grand statement but in the tiny actions. His favorite cereal was stocked in the pantry at all times, t-shirts with bands he used to listen to were in the drawers, and, after much whining, they went for a walk outside. At times he felt like he was living another person’s life. Like he stole one away from someone else. That what he thought was a kidnapping was a rescuing he didn’t deserve. 

Peter convinced himself to keep his distance. He stayed quarantined in the blue room, hidden as much as he could, but their interactions were enough to thaw anyone. It was the friendship he’d hoped to have with Ned at one point. They were tough on each other but it never negated their kindness or caring and, after so much time spent alone, Peter drank up those peaceful moments knowing they were short-lived. 

They entered the apartment and hot air hit them like a wall. The remaining snow on their clothes melted, soaking into their coats and hats or dripping onto the floor. Boots, coats, and gloves came off. They tossed all the wet outerwear into a pile by the door to dry. Peter wiped a hand across his forehead and stopped from groaning at the soreness in his muscles. He was so hot. Sweat clung to his armpits and chest at the run. Maybe he needed a shower to cool off. 

The air was too hot. It flamed and tickled the back of his throat inciting a coughing fit. His chest throbbed as he coughed into his sweatshirt. Tony tried to hand him something but he waved the man off and missed the look between them as he bent over at the waist. 

“Hey Peter, you feeling okay?” Tony asked finally succeeding at shoving a water bottle into his hand. Once his throat stopped spasming, Peter drunk greedily from it and nodded. He didn’t need anyone worried about him. 

“Thanks, I’m fine.” 

But he wasn’t fine. 

Someone must have turned off the heat because cold seeped into his body. Maybe they opened a window? He began shivering and tried to go hid in his room. Winter never worked well with his powers. The moment the temperature dropped he would get lethargic, feverish symptoms quickly. May knew how to take care of them. She never failed to make him better. Tears prickled at the corners of his eyes. He coughed again and hoped his hands were covering the heat on his cheeks. 

“Oh kiddo, come on.” 

Hands grabbed his shoulders and guided him to the living room. He refused to be pushed into the couch and thought he heard Tony mutter about ‘getting rid of the damn thing’ before he found himself sitting in the chair next to it. Tony wrapped a blanket around his shoulders. Once he was sat on the couch beside him, Tony opened his mouth to say something. He looked to the kitchen without speaking. They could hear clinking and Rhodey came out with mugs of tea for them. 

Peter sipped his cup. He thanked goodness it wasn’t peppermint because he was already feeling bad enough. The hot liquid soothed the burn building in the back of his throat but he shivered again and leaned back so his head rested on the back of the chair. Peter rested the mug on his lap and closed his eyes. Rhodey and Tony’s voices carried through the haze of fever began. 

“…Shit Tony, he’s burning up. I told you we shouldn’t have walked so long.”

“But did you see how happy he was?”

“…forgot how bad it…”

“Come on, Peter.” A voice from a distance said. The now cooled cup was taken from his hands. He was pulled out of the seat. On the way up, the blanket fell off one shoulder and he shivered at the intrusion of cold. He tried to grab it back but his arms were heavy.

Arms wrapped around his knees and his head rested on a shoulder. They were so warm. Peter shrugged further into the shoulder and the comfort it provided. Maybe they were feeling his forehead but it felt like when May used to push his hair back from his forehead. A sigh escaped him. He wanted to tell them to leave until he was better; to forget him, but they didn’t. They snapped at each other about how best to care for him but it lacked any real bite. He must be dreaming the worried tones. 

The person carrying him placed him under the covers. Peter blinked slowly. He was in the blue room. He turned his head to check that the window was still closed because his shivering grew worse now that he wasn’t held. His teeth chattered and he almost said something until the blankets started piling up. 

“I think seven is more than enough.” He counted and treasured them from the bottom of the stack.

“If I can still hear your sass, it definitely isn’t.” Rhodey said, handing him a shot glass of medicine. Peter needed help to work his hands free of the blankets and downed the extra helping of it. He didn’t question how Rhodey knew he needed more than usual for the effects to work. 

Tony sat on the side of his bed and felt his forehead. 

“You’re burning up kid.” Peter tried to tell them not to worry. It was a cold and nothing more serious. They continued to sit with him, guarding him against the unknown. The blankets weighed down on his chest, grounding him. Peter’s eyes closed under the fevered influence as warmth began to surround him once again. Two pairs of eyes looked on and Peter fell asleep, comforted and cared for. 

No nightmares plagued his sleep with the two watchful sentinels.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spot the Beauty and the Beast quote lol
> 
> The direction of this story is different from what I normally write so please let me know what you think!


	8. What Peter Carried

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Filling prompt 8 for Whumptober: Where did everybody go? and Isolation.

Winter, 2017. Hours into kidnapping.

Tony clapped him and Peter’s vision tunneled. His eyes zeroed in on the man’s wrist. On what wasn’t on his skin. 

His skin was smooth but Peter remembered the clinking shackles in the cell. The cold metal digging into his skin for days. When had he had the time to take them off? Why didn’t he have scars like Peter did? His mind turned for a justification or explanation. Why was he so hurt by it? 

Peter thought about everything he’d been through in the last couple of hours. The small metal machine that disconnected his tracker Tony already had in his cell. The alarms shrieking but only a preliminary wave of guards showing up. The fact Peter was in his particular cell to begin with. Even the strange way the man spoke. It was as if he knew certain things about Peter and that place. Somehow Tony had planned it all. 

He watched how the man’s smile faded at Peter’s expression. 

“Was this… Did you plan this the whole time?”

Tony’s eyes widened and the bags he was holding dropped. “What do you mean, kiddo?”

“Don’t call me that!” His heart pounded. The blood pooled and heated into his shaking limbs. “What the fuck. You kidnapped me. You’re a psycho. Is that what it is? I-”

“No, you’re misunderstanding.” 

“ - knew it. You take me back. Right now.” 

He was breathing too fast and his face was on fire. In the back of his mind he wondered if stomping a foot was too dramatic but he ignored it. Tony walked over, his hands raised in surrender. 

“Let’s just talk. Okay? I will explain.”

Peter jerked a nod. They ended up standing in the kitchen after he refused to sit on the couch. His legs hadn’t stopped shaking so he hid it by pacing back and forth. 

“So Rhodey is out, uh, ditching the car we took so yell all you want. I can handle it. But first let me talk. Deal?” Tony sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “So, look I can’t tell you everything because, well, I just can’t but I didn’t know you would be there at that time. Hell, I didn’t even know it was you dropping my meals off until today. But I’m glad we found you… And the kidnapping thing wasn’t the best idea but I’ve had worse, trust me. It also had the advantage of getting you out of that hell hole.” He laughed missing Peter’s cringe. 

“But you were planning on your escape for a while? The trackers implanted didn’t go off after all.” 

Tony’s shoulders loosened at this line of thought. 

“Yeah, I’d given up hope trying to find what I was looking for and decided to go out. Me and Rhodey had everything planned and you were there with perfect timing.” 

How could he sit there and laugh at this situation? Peter’s life was forever changed by their actions. And Tony’s excuse was he had perfect timing. What bullshit. 

“I didn’t come along. You kidnapped me, remember? I want to go ba-”

“Back?” Tony said with a snort. “No, you don’t, Peter. You don’t want that.” 

Peter stepped backward. The blood rushing through his body must have stopped and drained away from his brain. He wasn’t possible hearing right and had to lean against the counter to stand up straight. 

“Shut up.” He said when Tony stepped toward him. “Shut your damn mouth. You don’t know me. You don’t know what I want. I need to be back there. You have to take me back.” 

All he got was a sadly masked expression of pity. It made Peter want to scream and shout and pound his fists into the wall. The man didn’t even have the decency to look sorry.

“I can’t do that.” 

“Yes, you could. Take me back!” Peter screamed, clenching his fists. 

Tony’s eyes lost their sparkle but he didn’t move. Peter changed tactics and rushed forward grabbing Tony’s t-shirt. 

“Please,” He begged. “Please take me back. I deserve it, I need it. I’ll…” He swallowed. “I’ll forget it I leave, I’ll forget May if I don’t go back there.”

Cautious hands grabbed his and Tony peeled him off of his person without a word. Peter stumbled backward, hitting the cupboards. He slid down until his legs were splayed in front of him. 

He was so empty now that hope was gone. It was like all the blood, all the life, that was rushing before had drained out of him, but when he looked there was nothing on the floor. He couldn’t even muster the strength to curl his hands in a fist. Peter was alone for months at that place. He’d eaten alone, slept alone, and survived alone. But sitting against the wall in this stranger’s apartment he’d never been so defeated. 

Tony sat next to him on the ground. Peter grabbed the material of his pants and refused to look up. Tony didn’t seem to mind his anger or early outburst because he began talking.

“I know this isn’t easy, Peter, and I know how hard it can be to open up after so much hardship and hurt. The pain infects everyday of our lives until we think it’s normal, until we start believing we deserve it. And time slows when that happens. It loses meaning when we’re in this endless cycle. It’s not until somehow, someway, it’s broken that we can see past our hurt and start to heal. That can only be done by someone who cares enough about you to love you, pain and all. I know it’s crazy and doesn’t make sense but I’m asking you, for now, to trust me and Rhodey. Trust us to not bring any pain and if you can do that. Well, we can work with that.” 

Peter wanted to hate him for everything but he could hear the truth residing in each word. The man was trying to build a bridge between them. He was asking Peter to set aside the anger and hate. But Peter couldn’t abide by it. He wouldn’t do what was asked of him. The pain seeded through his body was too precious and had been growing too long to just give it up, to risk it being taken away. 

He had comforted May after Ben died. Her tears soaked into the pillow as she wept for her husband’s life and her future life with him that was ripped away. Peter sat by her begging someone to take her pain away. He wished and wished and wished she stopped hurting. At first, she didn’t hear his cries but gradually as the months progressed her tears stopped and she understood. May grabbed his hands, her fingers crushing his.

She said, “Don’t ask for that, Sweetheart. Never that. Our love was real and it was true. If this is the result of that I will cherish this until I’m buried beside our Ben. It will not be as harsh as it is now and even though the sands of time soften the grief, I will relish the feeling because I know what it means. You know what it means.” 

May stroked his cheek before tucking his head against her shoulder as they wept together. She was right. She was always right. He could cherish this pain as his own. It was his and no one could take it away. He wouldn’t let Tony or even time steal it from him no matter the longing in his chest for some ease. 

Tony’s shoulder was less than an inch away from his but Peter knew they were times apart. He couldn’t do what Tony asked of him. He rejected the strength of the strong hand that had guided him. Time slowed as they waited for one another to give in. 

In the end everybody left him. The only way he could remember them, to keep them close, was to feel hallow pit inside him. Peter basked in the heavy absence in his chest. For Ben. For his parents. For May.

Where did everybody always go?

And why did Peter wish to be with them so dearly?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title references the amazing book, The Things They Carried by Tim O'Brien
> 
> Thank you for reading.
> 
> Let me know what you think.


	9. For the Great Good Part One

Winter 2017. Two weeks into escape.

-

Peter was, in truth, hiding from his watchful roommates. Their care of him in his sickness left Peter feeling uncomfortable. He wasn’t sure how to act around them now and a rise of youthful insecurity made it impossible to set out from the blue room. He’d been so stupid, it amazed him. He was muscles still protested any movement from their trek outside and a lingering haze steamed through his mind. Even with the sickness and their over attentive care, the walk was worth it just to feel the wind on his face; to hear time going forward around him and with him. 

His eyes kept returning to the lake, now a few weeks away from being fully iced over, outside the window as he paced his room. He watched the gap between the shore and ice. Dark water streamed up, washing onto the surfaces despite the dropping temperatures. It would be near impossible to see the vulnerable underbelly of the lake in the coming weeks. The ice would cover everything protecting and concealing the life underneath in a timeless vacuum until spring came again. 

Someone knocked and Rhodey stuck his head into the room. 

“Hey Peter. We’re going to watch some movies if you want to join. Tony’s making his… special waffles, too.” 

Rhodey made a face at the growl from Peter’s stomach. The man knew no matter how much he protested the sugar contents of Tony’s breakfast, he would be forced, and secretly enjoyed, seconds. Peter, however, had no trouble with the excessive ingredients and ate as much as he could. Sometimes he and Tony raced to see who could eat quicker. 

Peter always won. 

But the breakfast food would involve conversations and questions he didn’t feel like answering today. 

“I dunno, Rhodey. I might stay in here.” 

Rhodey being the more pragmatic of the two would normally give Peter his space for a while. He would leave with a disappointed smile and open invitation, and Peter found himself out of the room before an hour passed because of it. Today he changed his normal reaction. Rhodey came into the room and sat on the end of the bed gesturing for Peter to follow his lead. Rhodey folded his hands in his lap lacing his fingers together before they sat quietly. Both sets of eyes watching as the wind blew across the lake taking the snow along for a ride. 

“I almost drowned once.” He said. Peter’s head snapped over and he gave a small chuckle under his breath while nodding out the window. “Right in that lake actually. I was young and stupid, going out when it was too warm and Tony, of course, would do anything a responsible adult would disapprove of so he was in. We had this friend who told us not to but we didn’t listen.” 

“What happened?” 

“Even though we didn’t listen to him, he still came with us.” He sighed and turned away from the lake to stare at Peter. “He saved me in the face of his fear. Tony calls me dramatic but he probably saved my life.” 

A shiver went down Peter’s spine and he avoided the man’s eyes to look back outside. He thought of all the times he went skating with May and Ben as a child. How fascinated he’d was of the ice. The tiny bubbles forming underneath the arctic structure, plastering to the horizontal wall and trying to escape up into the world only to disappear once the bubbles got passed the ice keeping them trapped. He remembered watching the sand settled on the bottom or be whipped into cloud of chaos with the slightest provocation. May had scolded him for pressing his face against the ice instead of skating around with them but in the end her and Ben had come over and joined him in his observations. 

He wondered how old Rhodey was when this happened. Was it a childhood memory faded through time? Was he afraid of water now or the cold? Did he dream of the event? HE wanted to ask but instead he thought of the solitary figure in the story. 

“What happened,” He said. “To your friend? What happened to him?” 

Rhodey patted the bed covers and stood up. He walked across the room and only when his hand rested on the door handle did he answer without looking back at him or the blue room. 

“He’s gone. You should come out. Tony’s been bugging me to show you some of the old horror classics.”

Peter chuckled but when he looked back Rhodey was gone. He lay back on the blue bedspread, rubbing his fingers against the fabric. He thought of the story and wondered if it was one of those lesson stories to get him to overcome a fear. Would he be the type of person to go out onto the ice if he was afraid? 

He didn’t know. 

Maybe for May he would, but for someone else. For someone he didn’t know as well, it was hard to tell. Peter mashed his palms to his cheeks and stared blankly out the window. What a selfish thought, but he’d done the saving strangers thing, the superhero gig for a time and what did he have to show for it? A broken life. That wasn’t even truthful. His life had stopped the moment May was gone. From there on he’d been living on someone else’s time; on borrowed time, waiting until they decided it was enough. Waiting to decide when his time was up. It was how he lived for so long he almost forgot what it was like before. The selflessness required to grow with people and some part of him hoped he hadn’t lost that. 

Tony barged into the room without knocking. Peter shook his head to clear his morose thoughts away and stared at the handful of DVDs stacked under a bowl of popcorn in Tony’s hands. He could smell the warm butter and salt. 

“I know it’s winter and we should get into the Christmas spirit but I say fuck the Christmas spirit. We’re about to get spooky and I won’t take no for an answer.” 

Peter found himself on the chair beside Rhodey and Tony, engrossed in the Horror of Dracula. He cringed back in fear and laughed at the dated graphics all the while wondering if he was doing it right. If this was what having friends felt like. If when they came for him he would fight to stay or go back to the way things were?

-

“Shut up, Tony and get into place. You know my mom is very particular about these things.”

Tony grumbled under his breath but at the mention of Rhodey’s mom, Roberta, he threw the bright red sweater over his head. Peter stood at the corner of the living room, watching as Rhodey adjusted the camera tripod height. The sounds of argument lured him from his room. Rhodey looked up from the lens. He threw something and Peter caught the red item automatically. Itchy material pooled in his hand. He rubbed his fingers along the hem and tilted his head in question at the pitcher. 

“You didn’t think mom wouldn’t want to see our mysterious new roommate?” Rhodey asked with a smile. “Tony don’t move yet. I’m trying to get the frame right.” He said without taking his eyes off Peter.

Peter fidgeted thinking about Rhodey said. For some reason he felt a strange tightness in his chest at the notion of Roberta hanging the picture with him in it on the refrigerator. Of Rhodey’s family passing the photo, maybe dogeared and faded with time, every day on their way to grab their orange juice. People looked at it with a smile and fondness. 

He found himself shaking his head without realizing it but Rhodey and Tony were already walking over. They grabbed the sweater out of his hands and shoved the itchy monstrosity over his shoulders. Peter was sitting on the chair in front of the camera before he could blink. Maybe these two did have some kind of superpower to move so fast without him knowing. 

Tony threw an arm over his shoulder. “Just grin and bear it. She’ll send us cookies to make up for the pain of staged photos.” 

Rhodey adjusted the camera down and pressed the button on the side of the camera before running to Peter’s empty side. He threw an arm around Peter’s shoulder and leaned in. Peter could feel heat surfacing on his cheeks and neck. He smiled at the camera with a nudge from Rhodey as Tony counted down. 

For the first time in a long time the expression took no effort.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading.
> 
> Leave a comment, please. I love hearing from you! :)


	10. For the Greater Good Part Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is part two of chapter nine and fills whumptober day 9! Thank you for reading.

Winter, 2017. Four weeks into escape. 

“Does this thing even work?” 

Rain splattered on the balcony and windows locking them inside for the day. The weather wasn’t just affecting the outside. Tony locked himself in his room. The sound of his music vibrating through the walls so they could hear from the living room. Rhodey was sitting on the couch, book in hand, but Peter noticed he hadn’t turned the page in over fifteen minutes. Peter was walking around the living room in circles, tracing his fingers along all the objects and watching as the shadows cast strange lights into the space they were stuck in. 

He paused in front of the side table by Rhodey. Behind the light there was an old phone. Peter twirled the plastic covered wire around his finger. The curls bounced back to their original coiled form connecting the receiver to the stand. Sesame seeds covered the top and when Peter picked it up the patty and faux melted cheese held buttons to dial. The burger shaped phone was fit perfectly in this out of time apartment. 

Rhodey glanced over and smiled at Peter’s pretend dialing. “Sure, it does. Tony and I used it for so many prank calls in the day. Isn’t it great?”

“I’ve always wanted to see one like this!”

“What do you think?”

“I can tell it’s been put to use in its day.” He said rubbing his finger along the holes where the seeds should have been and worn paint on the top of the bun. “I love those ones that are clear with the neon insides.” 

Rhodey smirked and closed his book. Peter sent a quirked brow at the man’s laugh but received a shrug in response. He set the phone back into its base and continued on in his perusal of the room. When he looked back at Rhodey the kitchen, the book was closed beside him. He was still looking at the plastic hamburger a distant, glazed over finish in his eyes. 

-

Winter, 2017. Five weeks into escape. 

Fire raced through his lungs and down his legs but he couldn’t stop running. He didn’t care if they knew about his powers as long as the people behind him didn’t catch him; as long as Rhodey and Tony were safe. He pumped his legs harder but it made no difference, they were still right on his trail. 

“We can’t let him go back!” They yelled trying to close in on him. It was a close race and Peter felt the sweat behind his knees. What he needed was more time. They came to the path stretching around the lake. Never in all their walks on this crumbling cement path would Peter have thought he would be running for his life. Peter hesitated before veering off the path and onto the snow-covered grass. He was not going to make this easy for them. The bushes and frozen plant life were hard and he to push through them, breaking their stems, in order to race toward the beach. 

Somewhere in the back of his mind he thought how strange it was he was working so hard not to be captured again. Only weeks ago, he had wanted to keep a distance from Rhodey and Tony, and now he was hurt and running. All to stay with them. 

He ran to the left of the old drainage pipes and turned the corner to rest on the wall of the structure. Panting hard, his breath visible in steaming puffs wafted up. It was so damned cold out. He winced at an especially strong breeze, brows furrowed tight with pain as a headache bloomed behind his eyes. He rolled his neck back and forth trying to stave off the lethargy fogging his mind. The tears in his shirt moved in the wind to reveal slashes in the skin along his arms and torso. The cold bit into the wounds draining him of energy with each breath he took. 

A twig snapped. He had lingered too long. The waves lapped against the shore and Peter took off running again despite his protesting muscles and screaming headache. There was a dock protruding into the lake. His senses pointed towards the wooded planks like a compass. Wood rattled under his feet until he stopped and turned to face his opponents at the other end. They stood at the edge of the shore, guns cocked and aimed at him. With all the time in the world they began to walk toward him. 

The hair on his neck rose the closer they came. Why did he run this way? Peter threw his hands up. 

“Please.” He said. “Don’t take me back. I-”

“Shut up.” One of the men with cold, grey eyes said and raised his gun higher. The wind whipped around them, stinging the cuts on his face. 

He had to do something. There was too much at stake. Rhodey and Tony were fighting for him and they deserved the same attempt from him. He was coming to love the little apartment, blue room, and even the two occupants. His time with them was short and, at times, full of distrust and apathy, but it changed him. The Peter who had given up and hide in that place was not the same person as the Peter who was standing, shaking but firm, at the end of the dock. 

Peter stepped forward – he had to stop them - and the gun went off. 

The sound echoed off the ice like a thousand gunshots exploded. Peter almost laughed at their poor aim, smirked at how they missed their target at such a short range, before his side erupted in pain. Blood dripped from a newly formed whole in his t-shirt spreading onto his pants and painting the dock. He clutched the material staring wide-eyed at the perpetrators. He shook his head to clear the blurriness of their faces but the focused details never came. Peter coughed which sent another burning wave through him. He collapsed to one knee. One of his arms were still stretched out to stop them from coming closer. A warning they weren’t heeding. 

“Let’s bring him in.”

They walked forward. Peter was bleeding onto the snow. He was shot and wounded, and they were going to take him away. He would go back to that place. Shouldn’t he want that? Wasn’t it what he deserved? For so long it was the mantra he told himself when he woke up and went to sleep. The cold walls and cold eyes were a comfort to him. Made him remember the pain better so he became that and nothing else. But what if it wasn’t everything? Maybe the pain wasn’t everything he was meant to be. He scrambled back, biting his lip to keep from yelling. 

“Stop!” He said with shaking breath. 

They didn’t listen. Peter struggled to get to his legs. He swayed back and noticed the red covering his three, no four, hands. He blinked and found he lost a couple of limbs when the dizziness receded. Peter frowned and his vision tunneled before he was moving.

He fell backward. Wind whipped across his back before he crashed into something hard. The impact knocked the breath out of him leaving him gasping. Black spots spotted his vision but his hearing was clear. The ice was cracking underneath him. At first it was small fissures in the frozen water, but they joined with other cracks and fractured out to create bigger, more damaging weaknesses. 

It was without a sound that the ice gave way and water enveloped his body. The dark liquid bashed the ice against each other. Small pieces floated in the hole where Peter was. His clothes were laden with the cold water. His limbs shocked into immobility at the vast temperature decrease. He sank from the weight. Water pooled over his face and nostrils unheeding of his attempts to climb onto the ice. The water was merciless in its pursuit to claim Peter. 

He sank until he was emerged under the ice, his arms and legs floating, clothes baggy around his frame. Peter looked up from below at the ice he had, what felt like seconds ago, fell onto. Bubbles escaped through the hole he created and he wondered if his younger self would have appreciated it or if he would have been disappointed the bubbles disappeared into the air. It didn’t matter now. Red tendrils of blood floated around him infusing into the water. At least there would be something left of him here after he was gone. 

His back settled against the sand and one last torrent of bubbles left his mouth as his lungs contracted in protest. A slow tide moved him back and forth along the bottom of the lake. For a moment, he was a child again being rocked be a soothing rhythm in a crib. Sand moved underneath him stirring with his movements. His limbs were too heavy to move. Peter closed his eyes instead of watching the ice above. 

The particles of sand swirled around him, mingling with the blood in the water before settling on his person. Some rested on his hands palms open in the water and others settled lightly on his closed eyelids. Peter was finally in no pain. He couldn’t remember how he ended up here or why he had feared the water so much before. It almost was like being hugged by May. He tried to smile at the thought, but then he thought of Rhodey and Tony. Their concern and selflessness in the face of danger. He tried to open his eyes for them, to fight one more time but he was powerless against the slowing tide of this strange, underwater world. 

The last sand fell at a leisured pace through the water coming to land on Peter’s forehead. Time slowed in this underwater world filled with silence until, when all was quiet, it stopped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the cliffy!
> 
> Let me know what you think's going to happen! Thank you so much for reading.


	11. Where in the World is Peter?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi All. Thank you for reading. This is for prompt ten of whumptober: Internal Bleeding and blood loss.
> 
> References to suicide.

???

People were talking around him. They were the type of murmurs you could never hear the exact wording no matter how hard you concentrated. His head lay heavy on the pillow, sunk into the dent worn in it by time. He found the same experience with his limbs. They were all but useless at his side besides the small twitch in the ring finger of his left hand. 

Time held no meaning in that state of immobility and exhaustion dragged him back to sleep whenever consciousness creeped back in. Inside the immobile body his cells worked to heal and repair the damage from the attack and fall, though his mind remained unaware. Hours or weeks could have passed, and in some ways they did but Peter wasn’t aware to the consequences of this yet. 

He woke up to the sound of voices again. Shaking from the effort, he cracked an eye open. There was a young nurse sitting on a stool near the door. She was on some talking into type of boxed hospital phone. Her intonation rose and fell as skimmed through some paperwork on a clipboard. Peter closed his eyes and panted while trying to ignore the trembling in his neck. He slept again. 

Waking moments were more prevalent from then on. He noticed someone was always stationed in his room no matter the time of day. Some stayed in the chair by the door while others came in and watched TV. They sat in the chair beside him and though he would fall asleep, it this strange state of sickness seem less lonely. 

The doctor came sparingly but they made sure to give a progress report when they did. “Low urine output still. Give him more fluids” The doctor said much to Peter’s embarrassment. His palms were clammy against the bedsheets but his arms wouldn’t respond to his attempts to move. His mind wanted to claim health, that he was fine and could go back, but his body knew what his mind wouldn’t acknowledge: Peter was hurt and it was taking too long to heal. His heart was beating fast but his pulse pressure remained low. He wasn’t just tired but had full exhaustion and fatigue in his muscles. 

Sometimes he pretended they were talking about somebody else so he didn’t have to be embarrassed. Like he wasn’t invisible and they weren’t talking around him. Other times he couldn’t follow the updates from the people. He’d get lost in the numbers and vocabulary, the twisting sentences that almost seemed like they contradicted themselves. A headache formed and he would block out the sounds instead of trying to wake up. Still, Peter slept on. 

When he opened his eyes without strain and forethought, it was night. He stared at the moon from his spot on the bed. It hung low and thick in his window. The yellow and dark watercolors of the face casting a strange tint across the room and the blankets covering him. The face stared right back at him all dark eyes and long mouths. Did the man in the moon pity him or was he laughing? 

Peter took a mental stock of himself. He tensed his muscles pushing them to see how they functioned after no use. He was breathing hard from his exploration, his legs twitching and restless. With slow, measured movements Peter pushed himself to sit, though his stomach muscles protested the whole way. Hunched over and catching his breath, Peter thought about his next options. 

The memories of how he came to be in the hospital were gone, but he knew he had to get out. The more time spent here, the easier it was for the men to come back. They would fine him eventually and such public exposure would work against him. Peter almost caved against the onset of his plans and fell back onto the bed, but he held firm. Rhodey and Tony’s faces appeared before him like apparitions in a ghost story. Their transparent expressions yelling at him to run as invisible enemies attacked them. A branch in the tree outside moved with the wind, disturbing the shadows in his room, and they were gone. He would find a way out for them. 

Peter swung his legs off the side of the bed. He gasped as the cold of the tiled floor soaked through his socks and chilled his feet. Some plastic pouch was strapped to his leg. He palpated it and blushed when he felt liquid inside. Pushing away thoughts of his urinary track, Peter tested his balance. He fully placed his feet on the ground and pushed away from the stationary structure of the bed. Back and forth he teetered on the balls of his feet before what felt like the first time in forever, Peter was standing on his own two feet. His muscles burned and shook from the effort, and Peter began sweating but he was standing. It seemed like a time ago he was running on the dock. Had he fallen into the pond? His head pounded. He couldn’t remember what happened next. 

Something moved and he saw the heat rustle the papers of the nurse sitting by his door. Her head was bent over to rest on the wall. She was almost asleep. Her eyes kept closing and not even the sounds of Peter’s explorations woke her. He could sneak around her if he moved fast enough. He tried walking but something tugged him back. The IV poll moved forward to catch up with him leaving the metal to scrap on the floor. The nurse woke up with a snort. 

“Oh my.” She said when she spotted him up standing. “You shouldn’t be up. Let’s get you settled back in.” 

There was no room for argument and he was tucked back in before he knew it. He drooped into the bedding and despite hating to admit it, even to himself, Peter felt like he’d just ran a marathon. Escape stretched further away from him if standing caused this much of an energy drain. He stared at the nurse how was working around him. She was an older nurse, one he might have seen before in one of his brief instances of clarity. She refilled his water and tucked the covers over his shoulders. Before she could move away he stopped her.

“Miss?” He said wanting to ask something that had been bothering him all night. “I’ve been to the hospital a few times when I was a kid and never had someone sit with me. Not that I don’t appreciate it but I don’t think I can sleep knowing someone’s watching me.”

She gave him a critical eye as she checked the IV measurements with the time. 

“Well, Mr. Parker that hasn’t stopped you from sleeping in the past 24 hours with other nurses here. I’m acting as a sitter tonight. I’m here to make sure you’re not a danger to yourself given how they recovered you from that lake.”

She patted him on his arm and his mind reeled with startling clarity of her words. They thought he jumped. They thought he chose to jump into the icy waters and not come back. A shiver ran down his spine. He needed to make her understand. 

“That, that wasn’t it. I - someone was running after me and I fell. I - it wasn’t on purpose.” 

She clucked her teeth and pushed the covers up where they had fallen when he tried to get up to reassure her and maybe himself as well. 

“Be that as it may, Mr. Parker. I have a job to do until you are cleared with the doctors and you do too. Rest easy tonight and focus on getting better. You’ve had some internal bleeding that they need to look at now you’re awake.”

He nodded and fell back into his pillow all fight and plans of escape forgotten. 

“It’s Peter, please. Could you put the TV on? I would feel better with some background noise.” He said. 

“I’m nurse Bee. Sleep well, Peter. I’ll be watching over you tonight.” 

He closed his eyes and the sounds from the TV filtered into the room. His last thought was he thought he heard a commercial with Shrek come on. 

-

“You’ve got some very unusual markers in your blood, Mr. Parker. It’s the reason it took us so long to find a suitable donor to get a transfusion. Now that it’s all set you should be feeling much better. We’ve removed the catheter as well and stopped most of the pain meds. The goal is to get you mobile now, build up any muscles, and, of course, you’ll have to see a psychiatrist. One will be sent up this afternoon. CPS was called and-”

“I’m eighteen, Doc” He said maintaining eye contact. The doctor raised an eyebrow but Peter didn’t move a muscle. He didn’t believe Peter, never mind that he was right not to trust him. It was that or he didn’t care either way. “Plus, I’ll call my uncle and he’ll tell you. There’s no need for anything else.”

The afternoon was filled with appointments. Just thinking about it left him a state of denial. Question after question bombarded him. He was scanned and poked and prodded. He didn’t even know how he was going to pay for everything.

The talk with the therapist was the worst. The hour dragged on. Every question was followed by another. Peter tried to be as honest as possible. Sticking to the truth was best in a lie and it would be easier to remember later, but Spiderman, that place, and May. No, all of those things were off limits. What he did repeat was he hadn’t jumped. He was chased and fell. The man nodded and wrote down something in his notebook before trying to dive into Peter’s past. He had no past here. 

In any other circumstances it might’ve been helpful. If Peter was open to the experience he might have found talking about his life to a stranger freeing. But this wasn’t the case. His past was gone here to all outside eyes. It hadn’t happened because it would be dangerous to talk about it. He was increasingly closed off as the minutes went by. His attention more focused on the plaid sweater vest the man was wearing than their session. 

Night came again. They must have believed his story because was finally alone. He was parched from retelling everything he remembered and more during the day. Still, something was missing. Dr. Lang suggested it was the trauma but Peter thought everything seemed off somehow. Everything was different from before. 

He stuffed the blanket around his feet so the cold air wouldn’t chill them and grabbed the controller. He almost wished the nurse from the previous night was there before he stopped the thought. Escape. He needed to escape tonight. The CPS had been too late to arrive today but he didn’t think he would be lucky enough tomorrow. They couldn’t make plans about him and take him farther away than he was now. 

The IV prickled with blood after he pulled it out. He pressed the corner of his gown onto the small hole and once it coagulated, Peter tossed a blanket around his shoulders as disguise. It wasn’t the most incognito appearance but it was all he had until he could find something, maybe a nurse’s zip-up to use. He also didn’t want the cold to stress his body even more in its weakened state. 

The memory of the therapist in plaid confirming his time with the CPS tomorrow was enough to get him out of bed and into the hallway. It was empty. Only his heart racing and machines talking were heard at this time of night. Above everything else, he couldn’t be caught. He walked without sound but he was too slow all his thoughts of daring escapes and only managed one hallway when he heard someone walking. A nurse turned the corner wheeling a cart in front of him. One of the wheels squeaked as it rolled. Peter held his breath and pushed himself into the wall but it wasn’t cover enough. As fast as he dared Peter darted into the closest room hoping the patient was asleep. He leaned against the door not breathing until the squeaking grew too faint to hear. 

“What are you doing?” 

Someone said from inside the room. Peter swallowed. His assessment of sleep was way off base. With a stolen breath he peered around the door wall and into the room. 

Papers were strewn over a spread of open books on the bed. It was chaos but the person sitting didn’t seem to mind. They were hunched over one of the papers. Peter waited for them to look up. He wondered if his eyes would be cold or warm but they were shrouded from view. His brown hair longer than Peter’s haircut. It was grown out from his buzzcut but still not longer than his ears. Peter spared a glance at the boy’s mouth and forehead. Both were furrowed and lined as he concentrated. 

Peter felt like he was in middle school again waiting in the principal’s office after getting into a fight when one of the other kids called him a nerd. The principal made him stand in front of his desk for five minutes while he finished work. Peter didn’t have time to wait now. 

“Well?” He asked again with a raised eyebrow. Peter realized he’d never answered. While the ground seemed infinitely a safer place to look Peter forced himself to look up. 

His breath froze in his chest. In front of him sat an apparition. Peter almost pinched himself to see if he was dreaming. His eyes were the same brown with flecks of black speckled throughout, but like the first time it was the emotion that kept his attention. There was a certain duality to his eyes. They stayed focused completely on him and taking in his face but this time there was no recognition of the distance between them. This time Peter felt as though he carried the ocean in him that separated them and, for a moment, he could almost understand the expression in his eyes the first time they met. Maybe he’d been asleep longer than he thought. Peter continued to stare and the longer he looked the more differences he spotted. The lines weren’t the same around his eyes, age hadn’t touched him yet, and he was missing that familiar edge to the brown pupils that had grown over the weeks of Peter being with them. 

“I was just hiding - I mean, I was, Tony? What the hell are you doing here?” 

The man’s – boy’s - eyes hardened but the curiosity stayed. 

“Who are you? And how do you know my name?” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all!
> 
> Let me know what you think.


	12. The President, Shrek, and Sweater Vests

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fills prompt eleven for whumptober: crying, struggling, defiance. Thank you for reading!

???

Peter didn’t know what to do so he did the only thing he could. He panicked and ran out the door. He wheezed against the quick motions of his feet. The cold tile was like a bucket of cold water to his body and his mind snapped to attention.

Tony – not Tony – yelled after him but he didn’t stop. Peter made it down the hall before he heard footsteps and an IV pole trailing after him. His smile curled higher despite the butterflies in his stomach. He stepped into an alcove whose walls were filled with self-help pamphlets. The blanket fell off of his shoulders as he pressed himself against the wall. His gown fell down along with it leaving his shoulder bare. He didn’t move to cover himself up and suffered through the shivers wracking his body. 

None of this made sense. The blood loss and damage to his head must have been worse than he thought. It was the only logical explanation. All the evidence stuffed his brain until all stream of thought abandoned him. He stayed there leaning against the wall as the wheels of the IV came closer. 

Shadows passed by on the floor, walking past him, and then the owner of the shadow stepped into view. The short shadows of hair on his face had the beginnings of a small goatee. He stepped closer to Peter and picked up the blanket drooping on the floor to secure it up around his shoulder. 

“I’m sorry. It’s been an off day, well year to be honest. Rhodey is always telling me to control my temper and once again he’s proven right. You were hiding from something right? Come back to my room and we can talk. I have some contraband hot chocolate in there and to be honest, kid, you look like you could use some.”

Peter blinked but was helpless against the arm around his shoulder. They walked in quick, quiet steps. Both sets of eyes on watch for any rogue nurse or doctor on the night shift until they were safe behind Tony’s closed door. Tony settled back on his bed.

“Sit here.” He said with a wave of his hand in a casual manner at the end of the bed. Peter stopped for a moment, looking between the chair and bed. But again, he felt his lack of intelligent thought keenly. He sat on the bed, crossed legged at the end, staring Tony. 

Was it him? Everything he’d seen so far led him to believe it had to be him. 

But then again, it wasn’t him at the same time. 

“So, let’s start with the first thing. I’m Tony and you are?”

“Peter. Peter Parker.” 

“Circumstances could have been better but nice to meet you.” Peter nodded and avoided his eyes. The brown flecks were so familiar but lacked the warm expression in them. This Tony, or whoever, was a stranger. Peter had a feeling the other one had never been one to begin with. “So, what are you in for?” 

“Huh?” 

“Why are you in the hospital?” A smirk played on his lips and Peter’s neck grew hot.

“Oh. I, that is, I fell.” 

“You fell?” 

“Into a lake.”

“You fell into a lake?”

“That’s what I said wasn’t it?” He snapped. Tony had the decency to look apologetic though Peter noticed that he didn’t apologize for the pestering. 

“How’d that happen?” 

This line of questioning was going to be the tricky part. He didn’t know how to respond and his brain was thoroughly checked out so he decided to go with the simplest answer and the one he would be most likely to remember in time. The truth at least in part. 

“I was attacked – chased- and I got hurt. I was cornered on the dock and it was an accident. I fell into the water. It was cold but calm down there.” He shivered as something stirred in his memory. “It was calm until… until it wasn’t. Something must have stirred up the sand! It was everywhere and there was so much blood until everything went black. Then I was here and it’s so strange here and you look so different.” 

Another shiver wracked his body and he hunched in on himself. Tony leaned forward and put his hand on Peter’s knee. His eyebrows were furrowed as he thought about what Peter said. He could only imagine what he looked like. Some strange kid running around the hospital, breaking into rooms, and then running away again. But Tony wasn’t treating him like he was delicate. There was concern in his eyes but a curious glint to get to know the truth as well. 

“Easy there. I’m sorry. That totally sucks. It must have been scary, too. Do you…” Tony swallowed. “Where are your parents?” 

“They’re dead.” He said flatly. 

The questions were enough to trigger a cacophony of memories. He was back in the hospital standing in the waiting room. Hospital staff rushed by but he was left there surrounded by empty chairs. His aunt and uncle arrived and though they smiled at him, their eyes were filled with tears. Their arms wrapped around him so tight, like they thought he wouldn’t crack under any amount of pressure. Little did they know their embrace was the only thing keeping him from falling apart. It was the last time he saw his parents before the funeral and the first day he went to live with his extended family. 

And now in some warped twist of time he was back in a hospital. 

“I’m sorry. Mine, too.”

Tony shrugged and quickly looked down at the blankets but not before Peter saw the hurt in his eyes. They held the same dull expression Peter saw for months in his new bathroom of his aunt and uncle’s apartment. 

“You’re pretty young, aren’t you?” 

“I’m sixteen. You?” 

Peter yawned and Tony frowned again. The restless energy from before his second escape attempt had faded leaving a vague unrest in his stomach and heavy eyes. 

“Hey, it’s late. Why don’t you try and get some sleep? Don’t worry,” He said addressing Peter’s glance at the door. “I’ll keep watch if someone comes. They won’t bother you in here.”

At least this evenings toll on his brain was consistent. Peter didn’t even spare another glance at the door when he nodded. Tony tossed down a pillow and Peter curled up along the bottom half of the bed. The room was warmer than his room, his limbs were sore, and this would be the perfect place to hid from everyone. The CPS and any other appointments never would think to find him here. Maybe he wasn’t so bad at escaping, he thought with a small smile. All he had to do was leave in the morning and his escape was complete. 

Tony must have turned the TV on and Peter listened half asleep as the news played.

“President Clinton, who is Gennifer Flowers?”

Something tugged at his consciousness. Something important but the sandman had spun his sand too well that night and Peter fell asleep with a revelation tugging at his mind - at the tip of his tongue. 

-

“Holy Shit.” 

Peter sat up without regard for anything around him. His head was spinning and he planted both hands on the blankets surrounding him. The morning sun filtered into the room. The bed as bigger than the one in his room and the room itself had a more spacious design while looking fancier too. These were all things Peter would have noticed if his mind, miraculously recovered from last night’s vacation of his brain, hadn’t been putting together everything from the past couple days. 

President Clinton. 

Shrek rocking out to Queen. 

The sweater vests.

Tony!

He was, somehow and inexplicably, not in 2017 anymore. It was insane and unthinkable, but he was convinced. Peter had traveled to the past. 

He started to hyperventilate. The short bursts of air sent his head spinning dizzy. Too many questions and not enough answers raged in his mind. Peter tried to remember every detail that could prove him wrong. He stared at his clenched fists with a scowl. This was all wrong. How was this real? Surely, there was a reasonable explanation. Surely, he would wake up tomorrow in the blue room. 

Peter began crying. The large tears dripped down his face onto the blankets staining them with flecks of dark grey. Loneliness was often a plague he dealt with. It found him in the silent waiting room and followed him, dogging his steps. When Ben was gone it was there. When May died it was there, waiting like an old companion. He’d grown fond of the weariness in some way. It was a familiar comfort to have. The ache in his stomach gave him a place in the world, a feeling to hold onto. All of that was gone. There was an absence now where the ache was. He clenched his fists tighter and couldn’t feel the sting of his nails against his palms. It was all wrong. He didn’t belong here. 

Something wrapped around his shoulder. 

Tony’s hand.

“Hey there, it’s going to be okay.”

“No.” Peter moaned and fell forward. His head hit the soft bedding. He almost wished it hit him harder. “I can’t… I can’t…”

“It’s going to be okay, Peter. Trust me.” 

Peter screamed into his pillow, pounding his fist onto the bed again and again. 

“No!” he yelled sitting up to stare at Tony who was standing beside the bed in a hospital gown and socks. He looked so young and Peter knew why. Tears began anew. He heaved a breath. It caught in his throat and ignited a coughing fit. Tony was there in an instant with tissues. He rubbed his hand up and down Peter’s back, hesitant and awkward in his comfort. 

Somehow, he ended up leaning boneless against Tony. His breathing was deep but uneven as he came to grips of his new reality. He felt incredibly fragile after his outburst. Like the only thing keeping him together were the rigid arms around him. Tony’s back was stiff and Peter could tell from his body language how uncomfortable he was but it didn’t matter. He was still there trying to help him. 

“Are you worried about CPS?” Tony said quietly. “I, don’t be mad but I tried to look you up last night and couldn’t find anything on you. Are you hiding from the people who tried to attack you?”

Peter was so damn tired. The movies taught him the rules of time travel but the problem was each movie had its own rules. He didn’t know what was the correct thing to say so he nodded. Tony squeezed their hands together. His eyes calculated observed him and Peter watched as he came to some conclusion. Tony nodded at him before getting up. 

“Alright, I’ll help. You stay here and don’t leave. I’ve got this room to myself without any interference. I’ve got an appointment later today but I will be back with all the paperwork. Stay here, Peter. I promise it will be okay.” 

With one last searching look, Tony turned and left the room. Peter barely noticed he was still in the hospital gown for his expression was so similar to the one from old Tony. He was alone again. The sounds of the TV played on but he didn’t pay attention. All of his plans went out the window when he found this room and its occupant. Determination and hope all rolled into one could be a scary and effective combination. 

He rolled onto his side to stare out the window. His eyes wilted shut and the room faded from view. The last thought he had was at least he didn’t have to worry about running into his past self as he had not yet been born. Peter hiccupped and wondered what he’d gotten himself into.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading.
> 
> Let me know what you think!


	13. Trust in me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter filing day 12 of whumptober: broken trust.
> 
> Happy Halloween!

Winter, 2017. Five weeks into escape. 

They were in the kitchen, Tony leaning against the cabinets watching as Peter and Rhodey made dinner. 

“Okay, Peter. Now we have to knead the dough for about ten minutes before letting it rest for an hour.” 

Rhodey scraped the dough, flour bits and all onto the floured cutting board and motioned for Peter to begin. He shifted but didn’t move. 

“Peter?” Rhodey said. 

“What’s wrong kid? Never made homemade pizza before?” 

Peter turned to glare at Tony. The way his arms were crossed over his chest as he watched them of the work of making dinner. He smiled back. 

“Alright. No worries, I’ll show you.” Rhodey took the dough in hand and pressed the front of the doughball down with his palms before folding it up and turning it 90 degrees. “You just repeat this over for the ten minutes. Good for the arm muscles and all though. You try now.”

Peter bent over the board and stared at the dough before digging his palms in. Rhodey was there to help if needed but soon Peter got the hand of it. The monotony of it left his mind able to wander. Rhodey and Tony were bickering quietly behind him. It was gloomy out today and Tony was in a mood. Rhodey was trying to snap him out so the whole evening wasn’t full of snide remarks. He smiled to himself and the dough, pizza was sure to help. 

“Come on, Peter.” Tony said from behind. “I’m starving…” 

“I’m going as fast as I can!”

Another minute passed and Tony complained again. Peter’s forehead wrinkled. Would he never cease to complain? He decided no answer was the best response and folded the dough with vigor. Another minute and another complaint had Peter’s temperature on the rise. 

He scooped some flour out of the bowl and hid the full palm behind his back. Peter turned around the face them. Rhodey smiled with a certain tightness to his eyes. Tony frowned. 

“I’m just giving you a hard time.” He said with a shrug. Rhodey threw his arm around Tony’s shoulder and it was then that Peter struck. He curled his arm back and flung the flour across the kitchen. Specks and clumps like confetti landed everywhere, but Peter’s mouth fell open when he realized most had settled on Rhodey’s arms and head. He backed up into the counter. 

“Oops, I wasn’t aiming at you.” 

“Is that so?” Rhodey said with a glint in his eyes. 

“You’re in for in for it now.” Tony laughed. 

Rhodey reached behind him and grabbed the bag of flour. His eyes never left Peter as he grabbed his own handful, a dangerous smile on his face. He reached back, aiming ahead, and then turned and dumped it on Tony. A giggle escaped Peter at Tony’s fallen jaw. 

“What the hell?”

“You looked down in the dumps and kneaded some self-raising up.” Rhodey chuckled to himself along with Peter who fell against the cabinets and clutched his side. 

They were covered with flour. The floor was covered. Bits were floating in the air. The whole scene caused Peter to lose it. He hadn’t felt this good, this free in such a long time. Whether they knew what they were doing or not Tony wasn’t the only one in a poor mood that day. Peter had seen the darkened sky, looked out at the lake, and lingered in his room staring out the window at the frozen tundra for far too long. It had been happening with increasing frequency of late. The pale ice drawing in his stare and he was captive to it and his increasingly dark thoughts.

But Rhodey had knocked and beckoned him out with a promise of pizza. He had led Peter to the kitchen talking about what movie they would watch and a new job he was looking forward too. Mundane things Peter could listen to but not focus on. But this caught him off guard. Their slacked faces filled with surprise and the chaos of the room. He laughed so hard a tear gathered in the corner of his eye. He tried to catch his breath, turning back to face the dough and missed the conspiratorial look between the other two. Peter sighed and was turning back when it started snowing.

Rhodey and Tony were on either side of him. His arms were covered in white and with caution he looked up. The bag of flour was dangling over his head, turned over and emptied on his person. It was their turn to laugh as Peter sputtered and tried to wipe away the flour only managing to get it on the many surfaces in the kitchen. 

It was with surprising luck dinner managed to come together. They had to break for showers, flour still reigned powerful in the kitchen when they returned, but Rhodey managed to get the dough into shape. They loaded it with their toppings and set it in the oven while they cleaned. Everyone pitched in and though Rhodey flicked some spare dust on Tony and Peter, it eventually was returned to its normal state. 

The pizza was gooey, warm and delicious. Peter scrapped a spare pineapple chunk off his plate. 

“This was delicious. Thanks, Rhodey.”

“What about a thanks for me?”

“You didn’t do anything besides distract.” Peter grinned at Tony who was about to answer when the alarm, the ones invisible in the walls, began to ring. They both stopped what they were doing and turned to face the front door. Tony was out of his seat and racing down the hall. Rhodey kept staring like he was listening. 

“What is it? What does it mean?” But no one answered him. Tony came back with a thick phone to his ear and a large bag around his shoulder. His words were harsh and loud. They were going into lockdown. 

“Rhodey?” Peter whispered. He knew what was happening. Of course, deep down he knew, but he realized he didn’t want to believe. He didn’t want to leave.

They had found them. 

Rhodey turned away and gripped Peter’s hand. 

“It’s going to be okay, Peter. We won’t let them take you.”

The building rumbled and Peter clutched his hand. 

“Rhodey, I don’t want to go.” 

Gun shots and loud booming noises echoed in the kitchen of the apartment. Peter thought he could see dust coming in through under the door. 

“Rhodey! We need to leave now. It’s time.” Tony yelled and slammed the phone on the table sending parts flying through the air. Peter’s heart was going to burst, he was sure. If only he could be like the lake, frozen exterior hiding all the chaos underneath, like he was in the past. But he’d thawed too much with these two people. They had changed him too much and his panic was apparent on his face. 

The door fell of the hinges at the arrival of men burst into the apartment clothed in all black. He couldn’t see their faces but the guns pointed at their heads was enough to flinch back. Rhodey pulled him up from the table and pushed him behind them. 

“Get back!” Tony yelled and stepped in front of both of them. Somehow along the way he pulled out the same metal device he had in that place but it was a pitiful attempt at intimidation. Four men armed versus them, two semi-adults and one teenager. Peter’s stomach cramped as the blood pounded in his veins. He could save them if he tried, he could do it. 

But before he could leap forward Tony was running toward them. He disarmed one and smashed the machine into the neck of another before he was hit. One of the two remaining clocked him across the face and he fell to the floor. 

Rhodey cried out and ran forward, grabbing a chair. He swung it over his head and cracked it over one of their heads knocking him down and leaving one left. Peter took a deep breath and ran forward. The man shot but Peter ducked in time. Distracted as the man in black was, Rhodey was able to come up behind him and lock him in a chokehold until he slumped forward. Rhodey dropped him onto the ground and they ran over to help Tony up. 

“Why wasn’t there more of them?” Tony asked while rubbing his head. They limped over the front hall behind the broken off door for cover after Tony checked the downed men’s’ pockets. He picked up one of the guns.

“They’re loaded with tranquilizers.” Tony and Rhodey shared a look. 

Peter surveyed the apartment. The fight took almost no time at all but the damage was more than he thought. The dining table was in pieces. Pizza slices scattered on the floor and the corners of the walls were crumbled. 

He brought this on. Once again people he cared about were in danger because of him. He had hesitated when the first wave came, had instead worried about his secret and how to keep it. If there was more and by the looks of Tony and Rhodey conferring there was, he would not worry anymore. It wasn’t worth it. He couldn’t stop staring at Tony’s swollen cheek. 

Rhodey turned to face him and placed his hands-on Peter’s shoulders. Loud noises overlaid his words from the rest of the building. “Okay, Peter, we have to move before more come.”

“Why weren’t there more?” Tony muttered. 

“Doesn’t matter for now. Time is almost up and they’ll be back.” Tony staggered up and grabbed the bag along with one of the guns. Peter asked if he was okay and he replied: “I’m fine, kid. Takes more to knock me down.” 

“Get down!” Peter yelled when he heard footsteps from down the hall. The alarm was still blaring and it was a miracle they acted in time. Peter threw the door up. It shook as the tranquilizers rained down on it. “I think it’s too late, Tony.”

The man shrugged and they staggered back as the door split in two. Shrapnel and pieces of wood flung toward them littering them with cuts and scrapes.

“In, in, in! Surveil and grab inmate 214.” 

Rhodey and Tony surrounded him and Peter wanted to scream. Why were they protecting him? Since they met him and Peter had a feeling before then, they had tried to protect him even if it went against his wishes. They took him away from that place, were there when he had nightmares, and dragged him out of his bad moods. Now, they stood between him and an enemy. It made Peter’s heart clenched. 

Rhodey grabbed his hand as Tony yelled for them to escape down the hallway. He watched as they ran further away from him. He watched as Tony was surrounded by the enemy. Their blows knocked him back and then they shot him. Tony turned toward them, screaming for them to run as he crumpled to the ground. Rhodey swore under his breath but didn’t let go of his hand or stop moving. They ran down the long hall until they came to the blue room. 

Peter collapsed on the bed and heard the door shut and locked. 

“Rhodey, what are we going to do? What about Tony? We can’t, we can’t just leave him!” 

He pulled on his hair. Rhodey opened the curtains and then the balcony doors. The cold, winter air filled the room and helped grounded Peter. He could breathe easier when the pins and needles prickled his lungs. He stared at Rhodey who was calm in the face of everything. Peter could hear the yells and tactics from out the door. He could hear the steps down the hallway coming closer. 

Rhodey knelt in front of him and took his fingers in his hands. There was some warmth in his eyes. Peter was surprised how nice it made him feel, how used to it he was beginning to be.

“You have to trust us, Peter. This will all be okay. We will all get through this.” They were banging at the door now. Peter’s heart thumped along with each of the attempts to knock down the door. Rhodey’s face lacked the calm he wore before. His lips were pulled in a tight line and there was a wild panic in his eyes. “You have to run, Peter. They want you. We’ll take care of everything here but you have to run.”

“I can’t leave you both.” Peter cried out. Rhodey held his shoulders and squeezed. 

“You have to. Trust us. Trust me.”

Peter nodded through the tears. Rhodey pushed him up and out the balcony door. Wind whipped around him. He turned around when the door finally came down. Rhodey held his own against them but Peter could tell it was a close fight. Rhodey yelled at him to jump and Peter finally listened. His hands gripped the railing and he jumped over the edge, the last glimpse was Rhodey falling to his knees. 

Peter hit the ground below and fell to his knees. He sobbed into his blood and dirt encrusted hands for a moment. He allowed himself to mourn and then stood up. Peter took a deep breath in and began walking. 

Pain emanated from his torso and he finally noticed a large chunk of wood sticking out of a wound. He winced as he pulled it out and blood spurted down his shirt. He had to trust them. He had to run and find a place to hid. He would listen to Rhodey and he would run. 

-

Winter, 1992. Four days in hospital. 

Peter swung his feet back and forth on the bed. He was still in the stupid hospital gown and couldn’t wait to get back into real clothes. He was also still in hiding. Tony said he was going to one of the hospital appointed therapists and then he would take care of his little situation. What he thought was Peter’s situation. 

The situation provided too big to tackle at the moment, given Peter’s limited knowledge of what Tony was going to do, so he decided to think about the other mystery plaguing him at the moment. 

The man who had been locked away in Peter’s original time was now in the hospital as a 20-something-year-old. His weeks in the apartment ill prepared him for this new revelation. They didn’t talk about the past much in his time there and Peter, still cautious, didn’t pry. It wasn’t his place to pry even if on occasion he was curious. 

What he knew as fact: Tony was in the hospital and he had a presumably mandated meeting with a therapist. His parents were also passed, though Peter wasn’t sure how or when. 

This fact separated from the rest. Tony’s parents were gone just like his. It didn’t change anything about his current troubles but it brought Tony into a new light. He felt an understanding of the man of his time now because of it. Peter was sick to think like that but he couldn’t help it. Growing up all of his schoolmates knew their parents even if they were divorced and his life was filled with constant reminders of that fact. Parent teacher conferences, career days, bring your child to word day, and even field trip permission slips. All of these were built around the assumption your parents would be there, but Peter didn’t fit into that mold. He was deficient in that was. 

May and Ben were his family. They were an integral, vital part of his life and he clung to them, grew with their help and loved them. It was everyone else who had a hard time recognizing them. 

Did you hear he’s an orphan?

Well, they’re not your real parents. 

Do you remember your mom and dad?

They were whispers and questions poised innocently but they weighed down on him. Made it hard to breathe easy with each pressing day. Highlighted the deficiencies inside him until it was like it was carved in his skin. 

But here was someone who knew what that felt like. His heels hit the underbelly of the bed and stopped swinging like a pendulum that ran out of energy. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up. 

Knew. 

They knew!

Did they know?

There was almost no way they wouldn’t have known. 

Peter tried to recall every singular word they’d ever said to him. He tried to recreate every expression on their faces and how they looked at him. Anything that would prove him wrong. 

Why was Tony in that place to begin with? Why did Rhodey know his favorite cereal? 

The kidnapping. Their words. That familiar glint in their eyes. The cryptic words they said to him. How accepted he felt when he was with him. The homey feeling of their tiny apartment. 

He wanted to scream or break the window or knock over the bed. But he couldn’t lose control over this. 

It was fine.

He could feel the hate red in his heart but it was fine. He could trample it down and find a way back to his time. The changes wrought in him could be changed back. Peter could go back to that place and back to his well-deserved punishment. His softened edges could be cracked and made jagged again and if his heart’s hurt was soothed through the weeks he was in the blue room, now it came roaring back in force. His chest felt torn again, raw from invisible wounds. He ran his hands down his torso to make sure nothing had attacked him without his knowledge but they came away clean. 

He just wanted the pain to go away and when his heart skipped a beat at the thought, he ignored the weakness. He wanted to go back to when they didn’t know him and he didn’t know them. It was a betrayal Peter had never experienced before. They knew he would leave them and did nothing to stop it. They knew Peter would be hurt and let it happen anyway. Every look, every word had a duality he hadn’t realized. Was any of it real? Was the comfort he had begun feeling all a façade? 

Someone knocked on the door. Peter didn’t run to hide but continued to wallow where he was. It didn’t matter who caught him now. Let the hospital staff find him and take him back to his room for more unimportant questions. 

Rhodey walked in. Young and smiling. Peter frowned but it did nothing to deter his expression. 

“Peter, right? Tony said you would be here.”He stuck out a hand which Peter did not take. 

“Like you don’t know.” He said in a sarcastic tone. Rhodey did frown then but then he shook his head.

“Tony also said you weren’t in the best of moods.” Peter stuck his tongue out. Rhodey laughed and tossed him the parcel he was holding. “Get dressed. We’re lucky Tony finally cooperated with the doctors to get his evaluation. I have you to thank for that. We’ve… I’ve been trying to get him to go to that stupid doctor for so long.” He stared at Peter like he should answer but took pity on him. “I’ll be outside, get dressed and we’ll meet Tony down in the lobby.”

Peter threw the clothes on the ground. He stared at them for a moment and then hurried to pick them up. If they had known all this time Peter had to figure out why they didn’t do anything. He shoved the clothes on and sure enough Rhodey was waiting outside the room.

“Ready?”

“What’s happening? Where are we going?” 

Rhodey smiled and waggled his eyebrows. Peter had to stop himself from staring at his face. He looked so young it almost hurt. 

“We’re kidnapping you from this stinky old hospital.” 

“Again?” Peter whispered. 

“What? Well, it’s not really kidnapping. All the paperwork’s in but it’s more fun to say it’s an escape plot or something.”

“Right.”

“Anyway, I realized I never introduced myself. I’m Rhodey.” His hand hung in the air again. Peter was aware this interaction could shape the future. His next movement could change the future. He could shun them or hate them. He did in a way for what they were going to do, but this Rhodey also knew nothing of him yet. “Trust me, Peter.” 

This Rhodey was a whole different person than the one before. He was a young man trying to help some random kid. And so, Peter shook his hand. The Rhodey in front of him wasn’t the one who betrayed his trust and Peter decided to extend his hand, reaffirming times path and starting the beginnings of a friendship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you!
> 
> I wasn't completely happy with how the fight came out. If you have suggestions, let me know!


	14. Moments in Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Monday. This completes day thirteen of whumptober: breathe in and breathe out. Enjoy!

“Say hello to your new guardians.”

Peter pulled down the sleeves of his shirt and gave a withered glance at Tony who greeted them with a smirk in the lobby of the hospital. He ignored the flip in his stomach. This was a different Tony All that mattered was finding the truth and if he was a bit giddy from escaping the hospital, well, he wasn’t going to complain. 

“Hell, Tony. You work fast when you want to.” 

“What can I say,” He said saddling up to them and throwing his arms around each of their shoulders. “I’m the kind of person who can…”

“Stuff it?” Rhodey added helpfully. 

“Fuck off?” Peter said to which Rhodey laughed.

“I can offer my support and guidance to this wrecked youth in need. You imbeciles. It’s not too late to take you back.” He said with a side eye at Peter as Rhodey and him continued to laugh together. 

“We have to keep him. I mean he looks so good in the plaid and all.” Rhodey shoved them all so they wobbled over each other’s legs and barely missing the spinning doors. Peter remained squished between them the whole trip to the car. His cheeks hurt from smiling. 

-

Unlike so many years ago they arrived at the apartment with the gloom of impending doom. Though he still had a flash of apprehension, this time was fresh. He almost expected to see the door split in two on the floor and broken kitchen table, but there wasn’t a single scuff mark or dented piece of furniture in sight. Not even the fabric of the couch, less faded green than he remembered, was worn from use. 

At the hospital it was difficult to believe the he had time traveled but the apartment it was obvious. The rubber pile in the corner turned out to be a clear inflatable seat with glitter. Behind it was a sturdier, more expensive looking chair pushed into the corner. The influence of Rhodey and Tony and their youth, he assumed, was abundant. He often wondered how long they lived in this space. 

They settled around the table Peter had last seen in pieces. He grabbed the cups out of the cupboard to pour water. 

“What?” He said as he set them down on the table. They eyed each other before Rhodey spoke. 

“How did you know that’s where the cups were?” 

Peter looked down at the table clenching his fists in his lap. “Oh, uh, well. That’s just how it was at my house and I assumed the same here. It’s a fairly common cupboard design about 45 percent of people have the cups to the left of the stove.” 

They stared at him and shared another look. Peter watched as Rhodey shrugged. 

“Alright.” Tony said clapping his hands to gather them around. “I need to fill you in on the cover story and just make sure everything’s okay with you. This is not an actual kidnapping no matter what my compatriot says.” 

“You thought it sounded cool as well.” Rhodey crossed his arms in front of him.

“Of course, it sounds cooler. Anyway, I want to preface this by saying I can undo any of this if you want. You also don’t have to sign them now, although if someone comes sniffing around it would be better.”

He shifted through the stack of papers laid out on the table and began describing the plan. Tony hadn’t been joking when he mentioned guardians earlier. The guardianship, as far as he could tell from reading through the papers was as legit as his driver’s license. Peter signed his name wondering how legal this all was. Tony was putting the papers away in a matter of minutes. 

When he asked how everything wrapped up so quickly Tony said: “I’m rich, kid, and money buys this type of stuff way too easy to be okay with but it does have its advantages. Case in point here.”

“You were right to be worried. The CPS was looking for you. Along with…”Someone kicked Peter under the table.

“Ow!”

“Oops that was meant for Rhodey.”

“Ow, damn Tony.” 

The two devolved into bickering from there and Peter never learned what Rhodey was going to say. 

-

The brush moved up and down the wall. It repeated the same motion over and over leaving a trail of evidence on the vertical surface until it dried. He knew what room would be his before they walked him down the hall. There was the bed and dresser but was void of all the decorations that had been hanging when Peter lived there before. 

“We’ve just never gotten around to decorating. So, it’s up to you, honestly I couldn’t care less so go all out.” 

Peter requested blue paint and bedspread but gave no more direction than that. All three of them dressed in old t-shirts so the painting would go quicker. Peter’s thoughts wandered after the first wall. With every new stroke of paint, he wondered how and if he was changing the future. The possibilities confronted him with every decision no matter the size. He could be changing everything. The time space continuum could be irrevocably destroyed by him eating a bowl of Wheaties in the morning. Not that the apartment was stocked with any healthy cereal. 

The worst aspect was the secret voice in his mind that wanted to change everything. He wanted to storm out and never return to the apartment. He longed to stay wrapped up in his new comforter and never leave. He wanted to go see May. Longed to stare at her smile and wrap his arms around him. Would she recognize him somehow in the deepest parts of her? Would their connection transcend time and reality? What was the right choice?

The answer scared him. 

The impossibility of the situation was precisely why he was staying inside the apartment as much as he could. This afternoon was paint day. 

“Why the long face, Peter?”

“Go away Tony.”

“Well, he’s got a point. You look like you wanted to paint it with lavender and we wouldn’t let you. I knew that lilac would’ve been perfect.” 

“Shut it, Rhodey.” He said with a reluctant smile. Tony stepped toward him and with a flick of his wrist, pointed the paint brush at him. Peter wiped his sleeve along his chin. 

“Point to you, Honey Bear. I need to step up my game.”

“What-what do you mean?” Peter dipped his paintbrush into the pot, making sure to wipe one side off before dabbing it into the corner of the wall. 

“We’ve got a small bet going to see who can make you smile more. Believe me, kid. It’s harder than it looks. Here I thought I was king of moody but you might take the cake.”

They gave each other high-fives as Peter deadpanned. He should be mad they were betting about him. They were laughing and he agreed, it was ridiculous. Their attempts were absurd and stranger still, it was working. Tony rubbed in the point he won from Peter’s smile. Before he could celebrate Peter jabbed him with the paintbrush staining his shirt with a blue dot. He turned to Rhodey and with some extra strength and a precision throw launched the paintbrush at him. 

Both exclaimed and an all-out war ensued. 

The room was painted… eventually. 

The paint never came out of their clothes. 

None of them cared that much.  
-

“Did you hear that our esteemed guest. It’s movie night, although I wouldn’t get too excited because it’s Tony’s turn to pick. 

“You guys watch without me, I’m not feeling it.”

Peter found out within days of living with their younger versions that Tony was right. He was the king of moody and he was wearing the crown tonight. Only with the promise of cookies and popcorn had he emerged from his room wrapped snug in one of his blankets. Tony snatched the cookie tin away from Rhodey and, with crumbs on his mouth, refused to watch any movie his friend suggested. 

“But we didn’t celebrate Christmas Tones. Pllleeease.” 

“You know I don’t like it.” 

They sat, arms crossed, staring at each other. Peter shifted his weight between them. He was on his way to make popcorn at Rhodey’s request but Tony’s refusal had put a stop to the plans. He risked a glance at Tony who was still staring daggers at his friend. 

May and Ben had seen how Peter struggled with the holidays in the beginning years of living with them. While they never forced cheer on him, they created traditions Peter could find a sense of newness in. Instead of baking gingerbread cookies, they cooked pfeffernusse. Rather than hanging stockings, their faux fireplace was lined with t-shirts they decorated and sewed up at the bottom. Sometimes Christmas wasn’t about Christmas as much as it was about just being with people. Peter had an idea. It just so happened to involve a movie he’d watched with them twenty-five years into the future. 

“How about we watch some good old classic horror films. House of Dracula?” 

The suggestion was unfair in some ways because he knew Tony only watched horror movies during the holidays. Their conversation at the hospital shed some light on the reason why he refused to watch family films at this time of year. Peter decided not to question if this was a previous tradition or if he was the one to introduce it. 

Two hours later found Rhodey snoring – heavy breathing, he insisted – on the couch. Peter and Tony carried the empty dishes into the kitchen. Peter began washing and Tony leaned against the island counter, water in hand. 

“Hey, Peter?” Tony handed him the glass but didn’t move away from his side. 

“Hmm?”

“How did you know I liked to watch horror movies?”Peter froze for a moment and began scrubbing again. He forced himself to laugh. 

“I didn’t. I picked something not Christmassy but still a movie so Rhodey would be happy.”

Tony hummed. “You’re a strange kid. You know that?” 

“So I’ve been told.” He scrubbed harder. 

“You know I didn’t mean it that way.”

“Do I? I don’t know you. Not really. I don’t think I ever did.” The frustration was hot on the back of his neck. Peter rinsed the brush and began scrubbing anew. “Why do you watch horror movies at Christmas anyway?”

Tony contemplated his words. Timed slowed in that moment. The water dribbled down his wrist and into the sleeve of his sweatshirt, Tony’s foot tapped against the cabinet, and the snores from Rhodey wafted into the room. Finally, he stopped tapping his foot and turned toward Peter. 

“It was something my mom and I did. I, uh, didn’t get along with my dad and used to get scared too easily. We would watch them together to conquer that fear I had. It’s stupid but I just never associated Christmas with Christmas growing up.”

“It’s not stupid and, if it means anything, I understand. When I lived with my aunt and uncle we never really celebrated in a traditional sense. I’m sorry I snapped.” 

Tony shrugged. “It’s nothing I didn’t deserve. I’m trying not to push but I am me so bear with it while I practice.”

Peter chuckled. Tony had no idea how pushy he was sometimes. 

-

Peter chose the wrong one. 

It was such a small detail; one he barely noticed was absent on his second introduction to the apartment. Tony had given him a magazine and instructed him to pick any phone he wanted for the living room. He dropped it on Peter’s desk and hurried off not answering his questions about what happened to the last one. Peter gathered from Rhodey that someone, he wasn’t going to snitch, had thrown it out the window. 

Yes, out their multistoried apartment window. 

Peter flipped through it and then he’d seen the one. It was so cool complete with clear plastic and these colored innards. The neon fidgets inside would move when you were on the phone convinced him so he’d ordered it without a second thought. 

It wasn’t until he awoke in the middle of the night sweat soaked through his shirt that he remembered. He stumbled to the office and rummaged through the papers in hopes of finding the receipt. Of all the times for someone to organize. 

Damn it.

The phone in the future wasn’t clear with neon accents. It was a hamburger. The phone was in the shape of a hamburger. Would this food shaped communication device be the difference between life and death? 

He didn’t know. 

It was his fault. 

He backed up into the hallway until his back hit the wall. 

Peter barely noticed the shaking of his hands but could feel the pins and needles of each breath he took. His breath stalled and built up the pressure in his chest begging to escape out. His fingers tingled. Peter lost track of time. 

“Breathe in and breathe out.” 

“We’re here… sitting right beside you, Peter.”

“You are here in our apartment. You are Peter Parker. I’m Rhodey. That’s Tony and we are going to be okay.”

Peter came back to himself in slow increments. His back was pressed against the wall. There was cramp in his legs from curling them up to his chest. He stiffened and then relaxed. Two bodies were pressed against each of his shoulders. His head was bent up, resting on Rhodey’s shoulder and his hand was tucked into Tony’s palm between their bodies on the floor. 

He didn’t remember his mission or how angry he’d been. All he could think about was the fact he might have ruined it all. He might have taken their future away and it was all his fault. What would happen if he ever went back to the future and these solid presences were no more all because he made a mistake? 

Rhodey shifted in his sleep. Peter’s head fell more fully on his shoulder. He breathed in the minty scent and some of the anger he dragged back with him from the future chipped off his heart. Did the truth matter from the future when the Tony and Rhodey from here and now were beside him, comforting him? 

Peter closed his eyes and slept.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading. Let me know what you think!


	15. Down Once More

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This covers whumptober prompt twenty-five: disorientation. Thank you!

Snow piled high on the banks outside. Peter looked out at the frozen lake from the safety of the warm indoors. A group of teenagers stood at the banks throwing rocks across what ice was frozen there. The projectiles skidded against the surface and scraped a trail through the snow so Peter could see the wobbly lines from his viewpoint. 

“You have to run.” 

Peter shook his head and tried to focus back on the group outside only to find the shore was empty. The lines in the ice filled in as it continued snowing out. It was subtle at first. He’d thought the stay in the hospital and trying to balance everything had caused him to be more tired than usual. But he’d begun to suspect the longer he stayed in the past, the more the present was closing in on him. Peter could feel the grit of the sand clinging to his memories. The rubbing friction was like sandpaper every time they crept up on him. 

“Run, Peter!”

Rhodey’s face marred with blood stared back at him through the window panes. Tony stood behind him dashing toward an invisible enemy before looking at him, straight through him, as he crumpled to the ground. They were there inside the glass, stuck in the bits of melted sand, but they were also figments of his memory. Did these memories know he would be sent back when they asked him to run? 

Blood ran down the glass masking their faces with red. Peter held his stomach to keep from getting sick. He shook his head, slammed his fists on the bedding to stop the images from reoccurring. When he opened his eyes, the scene had changed. It was so much worse. Their lifeless bodies were fallen and laid vulnerable on the ground. Blood tricked from them and pooled underneath their still limbs. They were dead and flames rose above them. 

He was nauseous. Was this the future? Could he somehow see what hadn’t yet come to pass? Peter’s breath quickened as time pressed in on him. He didn’t feel like he was in the present anymore as the two apparitions weighed on him. He needed to breath.   
Peter stood up. He ran down the hall and to the living room needing to see if Tony and Rhodey were whole. A sigh escaped him when he saw them on the couch. Their heads were slumped together while a Seinfeld episode played in the background. 

They looked up at him on his sudden entry. 

“Peter?” Tony said.

“I was… That is… I’m just going to go back to my room.” He turned back around until he was back on his bed. The mattress sunk under his weight. It was enough to know they were just beyond his door. Here in this present. Peter realized he wanted to stay if it meant being in a time were those two fools were alive. Here they hadn’t betrayed him. They looked after him as well as any young adult could care for another and the thought of going back to the future where he didn’t know their fate was worse than he could believe. Maybe he would never go back. Maybe he wasn’t supposed to. 

So caught up in his thoughts was he that he almost didn’t hear the door open. “Me thinks we’ve been cooped up in here for too long.” Tony smiled from the doorway. “And I know just the thing to cheer you up.” 

Peter protested often and loudly on their walk down to the lake. Their breaths mingled and smoked into the air before the breeze swept it away. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up. 

“Why don’t we just have a movie night?” 

“Because exercise is good for a growing boy.” Rhodey said with a smirk. 

“You can’t make me go on the ice.” 

“I think you’ll find his powers of persuasion are too great for any person.” Rhodey shook his head with a wink at Peter. 

They walked away from the path and down the hill. The banks were cleared of any fall plants and the trio settled on a dry patch of sand. Rhodey and Tony tied up their ice skates. Peter was keeping his shoes on and nothing Tony could say would change that. It wasn’t because he was scared but the pit in his stomach churned with each step closer. 

This was the lake where it happened. The icy water he’d plunged into. Was he running away at that point or running toward something? Peter could almost feel the impression of the sand gritty against his skin as he sat there on shore. It was pulling him closer, beckoning him to something out of his reach. 

He wrapped his arms around himself. 

“You okay?” Rhodey wobbled beside him on his skates. 

“I’m going to stay here. I… don’t say anything to Tony but, you know, the water.” 

Realization dawned on his face and he nodded. “I’ll distract him. No worries.” 

“Hey you kids, let’s go!” Tony yelled from the ice. His excitement was palpable. The sparkle in his eyes and frantic wave of his hands spurred Rhodey forward. Rhodey took to the ice, jumping over a thin spot, and raced passed Tony. 

“I’m gonna win!” He yelled. Tony shouted and sufficiently distracted raced after Rhodey. 

They didn’t know it was this exact lake. The phone incident continued to be on his mind. Maybe someday he could tell them but not yet. It was easy to forget in such a picturesque place what would happen if consequences were forgotten but he wouldn’t jeopardize anything with his wistful thoughts. He would wait and think, and only if the situation demanded would he impart his secrets. 

Rhodey swung Tony in a circle. Around and around in tight circles they skated until Tony flung off across the ice. He fell to his butt. His mouth dropped in surprise. Rhodey laughed. He braced his hands on his knees as he full bellied chuckled at his friend. Peter couldn’t help the smirk slide across his face. 

The wind penetrated through his jacket. His hairs on the back of his neck tingled and his stomach tightened. Time slowed. Rhodey slapped his tights and began skating toward Tony. He pushed off the ice, digging the blades of his skates in and pushing off. 

To Peter it appeared as though nothing happened. Tony was laughing and Peter’s smile was frozen on his face. But Rhodey stopped. The sounds of the ice cracking barely preceded the ice crumbling. He disappeared; sunk into the dark water revealed by the ice. Would he never return like Peter did with his own time? Or worse, would they find him cold with no life? 

His legs were moving before he had time to think. Peter raced onto the ice. Tony was further away from his slide and Peter knew he had a better chance at helping. He ran as close as he dared and got onto his stomach, crawling the rest of the distance to the hole in the ice. His muscles coiled and he focused on his spider senses for the first time in a while. Peter navigated the thin patches of ice, feeling what route was best to go. Tony screamed out to them. The brunette skated closer but he didn’t pay attention to the weakening ice under his skates. 

“Stop!” Peter screamed. Thank god he listened to him. “There’s thin ice all around here. Damnit!” 

The hole’s edges were jagged and weeping at the center. Peter took off his coat and sweater, tossing them onto the ice. He heard Tony calling someone and was thankful the man was rich enough to have one of those huge cell phones, though he didn’t want to know where he hid it. 

Peter weighed his options quickly to decide the best course of action because reaching forward. He dipped his arm into the water and reached as far down as he could. What he wouldn’t give to feel fingers close around his. Peter’s fingers tingled but his hand remained empty. The water splattered on the ice as he grabbed his jacket. He was shaking now but worked through it tying the end of the jacket to his waist. Tony knelt beside him and Peter handed him the other end. 

“Hold tight and lay there. Please if it falls call for help. They’ll be worried at the hospital when I emerge from this lake twice.” Tony’s eyes widened at his pronouncement. 

“I should go in.” 

“I’m faster than you, there’s no time to argue.”

Tony’s grip tightened around the jacket but didn’t let go when Peter tried to move. He looked over. 

“It will be okay, Tony. Trust me.” Tony swallowed and enveloped Peter in a hug. He stiffened for a moment and then melted into the embrace. “Thank you.” He whispered before extracting himself and sliding into the water. 

Ice shocked his system. Shivers wracked his body. Peter treaded at the top. Tony yelled something at him but he couldn’t hear over his heartbeat. The last inhale he took sent pikes into his lungs. 

Peter took a huge breath and dived under. Water enveloped his body. The dark liquid bashed the ice against each other. Small pieces floated in the hole where Peter was. His clothes were laden with the cold water. His limbs shocked into immobility at the vast temperature decrease. He sank from the weight. Water pooled over his face and nostrils unheeding of his attempts to climb onto the ice. The water was merciless in its pursuit to claim Peter. 

He sank until he was emerged under the ice, his arms and legs floating, clothes baggy around his frame. Peter looked up from below at the ice he had, what felt like seconds ago. Bubbles escaped through the hole he created and he wondered if Tony could see them from above. It didn’t matter now. 

His back settled against the sand and one last torrent of bubbles left his mouth as his lungs contracted in protest. A slow tide moved him back and forth along the bottom of the lake. For a moment, he was a child again being rocked be a soothing rhythm in a crib. Sand moved underneath him stirring with his movements. His limbs were too heavy to move. Peter closed his eyes instead of watching the ice above. 

The particles of sand swirled around him. Some rested on his hands palms open in the water and others settled lightly on his closed eyelids. Peter was finally in no pain. He couldn’t remember how he ended up here or why he had feared the water so much before. It almost was like being hugged by May. He tried to smile at the thought, but then he thought of Rhodey and Tony. Their concern and selflessness in the face of danger. He tried to open his eyes for them, to fight one more time but he was powerless against the slowing tide of this strange, underwater world. 

The last sand fell at a leisured pace through the water coming to land on Peter’s forehead. Time slowed in this underwater world filled with silence until, when all was quiet, it stopped. 

He was repeating the past, trapped in a cycle he had no control over. His heart pounded in his ears and with one last push of energy Peter push off the ground ignoring the call he heard. His arms flailed out and his lung was going to explode. The hope he had was on its last dregs and then he grasped something. 

Peter’s hand tightened around another hand. A hand with some warmth running through it. He fought against the tide, against the call of time and kicked as hard as he could. The light of the surface grew closer and closer until, with one last call of the sand, Peter broke the surface with Rhodey in his arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wishing you all well :)
> 
> Is the title a POTO reference? We may never know. 
> 
> Let me know what you think!


	16. Confessions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you are all doing well. Short but important.

Tony drove them in silence on the way home from the hospital. His hands gripped the wheel too tight and from the back-seat Peter could see the veins shadowing the tendons in his fingers. Tony’s eyes drifted from the road to gaze at his two passengers too often for comfort but neither of them said anything. Peter shifted once, twice, and a third time in his seat as he felt eyes on his face but still, the thick silence continued. 

At their arrival he opened the doors, made sure to grab their bags, and after checking to see how they were doing, stiffly walked behind them the whole way. His darkened expressions acted like a dreary cold on their already subdued party. Rhodey kept his friend’s mood in mind, allowing him to sulk and simultaneously fuss over them, until the man headed straight for his room and punctuated their arrival with a slammed door.

“Tony,” Rhodey called after and sighed at the lack of response as he slipped of his shoes. He shivered and began coughing. Deep, scratching coughs came from his chest sounding painful and draining. Peter hurried to the kitchen. He brought back a glass of water before grabbing a kettle for tea. 

Rhodey plopped down on the couch. Peter paced in the kitchen, waiting for the water to warm and just stopping himself from rushing to his room. So fazed was Peter that he didn’t even notice the couch they settled on with barely more than a wince. 

Rhodey noticed and asked between sips. “Why don’t you ever sit here?”

Peter fiddled with the handle of his teacup and glanced out the window weighing what he should say. All of his well thought out plans flew out the window when Rhodey had fallen into the lake. If he had only said something, told them it was the lake from before. The lake he had once upon a time fallen into then they wouldn’t have gone. He was confident enough to know their consideration for him would have outweighed their need for fun. If he’d confessed, Rhodey wouldn’t have gotten hurt. Full transparency was always the right way to go. Mostly.

Still, he wasn’t sure if he should tell Rhodey why the color green brought a sour taste to the back of his throat. His aunt wasn’t someone he talked about often, or ever. He wiped his palms against the thighs of his pants. May was precious to him. He was protective of her now that he’d failed to be in real life. Peter kept her close in his heart, locked away and safe from any who would try to take her away from him a second time. Rhodey placed a hand stopping the fidgeting he hadn’t realized he was doing. Peter thought back to how nice it was waking up from the nightmare with someone there for him. Maybe he should share her. She wouldn’t be forgotten or gone from him if he did. Her memories would be greater than him now. May and a piece of her light would reside with Rhodey if he shared. 

He never thought he would admit Tony was right but he was. It was time to break the endless cycle he was trapped in. That timeless aching in his chest so familiar to him now trembled at his reached decision. Against all odds he would do as Tony said and trust them not to bring any more pain to him. 

“My aunt. I lived with her for a long time and our apartment was broken into. They held me there. It could have been the exact same couch, for all I know. She insisted it was olive green. And I saw her… she was shot in my living room. I was… I’ll never forget.”

“Shit. I’m so sorry Peter.” He shook his head. It was done now, though said in half-sentences and rambling words. His chest tightened. It wasn’t fair to burden someone with his worries and nightmares. But Rhodey put his arm around Peter’s shoulder and pulled them together. The sideways embrace was warm and comforting. Peter settled back into the couch, chest easing until a languid tiredness returned to his countenance. 

“Is Tony okay?” He asked wondering about the boy’s odd behavior. 

“It’s not your fault. Tony’s protective of his family and yesterday probably brought a lot of bad memories to mind.” He sighed and turned to face Peter. “Did he ever tell you why he was at the hospital?”

“No and I never asked. Everything happened so fast.”

Rhodey nodded. He fell back against the couch and the mood shifted into something more pensive. Peter stared at the curtains, limp and dark, across the room. Not even the light from the moon could squeeze through the cracks.

“I know and I’m so happy it did. Tony’s parents were killed right before Christmas. He was there, hurt in the back and unconscious because of the impact. Tony had been in the hospital for over a month refusing medicine and an evaluation of his mental health. He met everything with anger and resistance. I was worried about him, more than usual that is. His eating habits were nonexistence and they had a watcher with him most nights but then you showed up. It was the best thing that could have happened, in all honesty. And, well you know, he’s Tony but there was something he could focus on.”

“I don’t want to be burden.”

“Peter, you aren’t. We were stuck in this depressing cycle before you arrived. You’re timing couldn’t have been any better.” Rhodey said with a small smile. 

Peter’s stomach dropped. 

This could be the moment. He could tell them everything and by doing so protect them from any harm in the future. He could confess to knowing them and their circumstances to make sure they would never meet. Rhodey and Tony could be safe and live their lives without worry about him. If he ever made it back to his time it would be… empty but ultimately worth it. 

He would be calm and careful. Only telling them certain parts. Peter got up nodding to himself.

“Peter?”

“Wait here.” Peter walked down the hallway and stood in front of Tony’s door before knocking. He could hear paper shuffling from inside under the music. His patience began to wear thin and Peter was about to lose courage when Tony called out from inside. 

“Nobody’s home.”

“Tony? I Need to talk to you and Rhodey. Please.”There was a pause. The loud music turned off and he came out. They trailed one after another into the living room. Tony sat next to Rhodey on the couch and Peter stood before them. His heart pounded against his ribs. He imagined his pacing digging into the carpet and forming a tunnel he could climb down to hide. Was he going to do this? 

“I have something to say and I would ask you don’t interrupt before I finish. Also, that you try to believe me.” He checked to see that they understood. Though Tony still had a furrowed brow from earlier they both focused on him with unusual seriousness. 

“What are you talking about Peter?”Of course, Tony couldn’t sit still for long, he would have to talk fast. He swallowed and just blurted it out. 

“I’m from the future.”

Oh no. He’d said it. Peter stood frozen on the spot, staring past them at a point in the wall of no importance. His breath was too fast and too slow all at once. Peter was frozen, reality, as much as he could tell, was still going. Time passed at a snail’s pace and he took that as a sign he hadn’t disrupted any time space continuum. He clenched his hands together. Nothing was coming apart at the seams. He was there and whole in body and mind. If he ignored the incredulous looks, it would’ve been hard to imagine he’d confessed to the impossible only a second ago. 

The two on the couch were in a rare state of silence. Peter took a large breath and began again. 

“I know it sounds out of this world but I was attacked in my time and fell into the lake, the same one outside. I fell in and woke up in the hospital here. I don’t know why or how but it happened, or has yet to happen. I dunno time travel is confusing. But I can feel it more now than before. It’s worse than before, I think, because I went into the water. There’s this grit on my skin and this sound of sand running against itself, like the constant falling in an hourglass. I think my time here is almost up.” 

Peter hadn’t realized all of this before he said it. But the words didn’t stop coming and they felt right to him. His time was up here. It was all so vague and confusing. Maybe saving Rhodey was why he came back. Maybe it was meeting them again. Maybe he was looking for reasons where there wouldn’t be one. The hollowness in his bones grew deeper. Peter bowed to the ground out of breath. 

“I have to go.” He whispered. Peter rubbed a hand along his wrist and turned to pull back the curtains so he could stare out the window. Ice and snow stared back with a remote intensity that made his stomach clench. Rhodey and Tony gazed at him. He could see their minds, ever on the move, turning with the new information. Peter had to give them credit. The two didn’t denounce him or laugh at his statements. They gave each other a shared look before staring back at him.

“You’re one strange kid, you know that Peter?” As serious as Tony could ever be. They all smiled at one another, relieved the tension was broken, but Peter’s earlier words cast a shadow in their eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think! Are you liking the story so far? We have about five more chapters to go.


	17. Kaleidoscope of Memories

2017, Five weeks into rescue. 

He fell backward. Wind whipped across his back before he crashed into something hard. The impact knocked the breath out of him leaving him gasping. Black spots spotted his vision but his hearing was clear. The ice was cracking underneath him. At first it was small fissures in the frozen water, but they joined with other cracks and fractured out to create bigger, more damaging weaknesses. 

It was without a sound that the ice gave way and water enveloped his body. The dark liquid bashed the ice against each other. Small pieces floated in the hole where Peter was. His clothes were laden with the cold water. His limbs shocked into immobility at the vast temperature decrease. He sank from the weight. Water pooled over his face and nostrils unheeding of his attempts to climb onto the ice. The water was merciless in its pursuit to claim Peter. 

He sank until he was emerged under the ice, his arms and legs floating, clothes baggy around his frame. Peter looked up from below at the ice he had, what felt like seconds ago, fell onto. Bubbles escaped through the hole he created and he wondered if his younger self would have appreciated it or if he would have been disappointed the bubbles disappeared into the air. It didn’t matter now. Red tendrils of blood floated around him infusing into the water. At least there would be something left of him here after he was gone. 

His back settled against the sand and one last torrent of bubbles left his mouth as his lungs contracted in protest. A slow tide moved him back and forth along the bottom of the lake. For a moment, he was a child again being rocked be a soothing rhythm in a crib. Sand moved underneath him stirring with his movements. His limbs were too heavy to move. Peter closed his eyes instead of watching the ice above. 

The particles of sand swirled around him, mingling with the blood in the water before settling on his person. Some rested on his hands palms open in the water and others settled lightly on his closed eyelids. Peter was finally in no pain. He couldn’t remember how he ended up here or why he had feared the water so much before. It almost was like being hugged by May. He tried to smile at the thought, but then he thought of Rhodey and Tony. Their concern and selflessness in the face of danger. He tried to open his eyes for them, to fight one more time but he was powerless against the slowing tide of this strange, underwater world. 

The last sand fell at a leisured pace through the water coming to land on Peter’s forehead. Time slowed in this underwater world filled with silence until, when all was quiet, it stopped. 

-

2017, Four weeks into rescue. 

The day was brisk. Cold, crisp air soaked into their lungs with every step they took. Peter, Rhodey, and Tony made their third circle around the lake. From their vantage point on the path they could see the snow racing against the wind on top of the ice. Peter shivered and broke his stare. He rubbed his hands together trying to get rid of the gritty texture rubbing against his skin but when that didn’t work he began to run laps around his two companions. 

“You’re a strange kid, you know that?” 

Tony smiled at him as he passed them in the front. It wasn’t exactly a solution. The grit remained under his gloves, against his legs no matter how much he ran. He tried not to glance back at the lake but a foreign compulsion forced him to with every circle. 

“Must be nice to have all that stamina.” Rhodey commented. 

“I have to expend this energy now or I won’t be able to sleep later.” Peter whined between jumping jacks. Why couldn’t he enjoy the day? He’d forgone eating breakfast even with a rumbling stomach. But the thought of eating anything, even Rhodey’s mouthwatering waffles, made him flinch. 

“We could always have Rhodey read you a lullaby, He does voices and everything.” 

Rhodey smacked Tony on the shoulder. Peter smiled despite the sour taste in the back of his mouth. His eyes wandered behind them to the lake almost iced over. He continued to stare until Tony put an arm around his shoulder. Did he know Peter was about to walk toward the water? Did he see the shadows in Peter’s eyes? 

-

1992, two months in time.

“You didn’t.”

Peter’s spoon hovered in midair, stopped from making its trajectory into his mouth before it dropped, splashing his fruit loops onto the table and himself. A red fruit loop hit his shirt and rolled down onto the floor but Peter wasn’t paying attention. His eyes were on Tony who had just come from his room. 

“Tony. Take it back. Go wash it out.”

“You don’t like it?” Tony took a pan drying from the dry rack and held it up to pretend to look at his reflection. The blond hair, oversized and disproportional to his real head of hair, looked like a funhouse reflection in the pan’s diameter. 

“Good Mor…. Holy shit. I thought you were joking, Tones. Don’t change anything. Let me get my camera. Wait there.” 

Rhodey ran back to his room. They could hear him swearing and rummaging around in his room for the camera. Peter burst out laughing at the one patch of brown hair surrounded by a sea of bleached blond. 

“I will never let you live this down, Tony.”

Peter’s statement was punctuated by the sound of Rhodey’s camera going off. 

-  
2017, two days into kidnapping. 

Peter paced back and forth in front of the curtained balcony. The two men, his supposed kidnappers, were sitting on the couch staring at him. But none of it made sense. They’d given him a room with clothes in the drawers. There was food stacked high on the coffee tables. The one named James Rhodes had insisted on filling a plate for Peter when he had said he wasn’t hungry. 

They were nice, too nice. Peter hesitated at his outstretched hand. There were all kinds of junk food piled onto the plate. Rhodes stared back at him and pushed the plate further into his hand. 

“Please, sit down.” Rhodes said gesturing to the vacant chair next to the couch they occupied. “And eat up. I’m sure they didn’t feed you well in that place.”

He was helpless under the warm gaze of Rhodes. Soon he was tucked away in the chair, rice crispy in hand with a blanket wrapped around him. This was the strangest kidnapping he’d ever heard of. 

“Thank you, Mr. Rhodes.” He said quietly.

Tony snorted and Peter glared at him from under his bangs. The man was obnoxious. 

“Did you hear that Mr. Rhodes? Our guest is so polite.” 

The tips of his ears heated and he clenched the edges of the plate.

“What should I call him then?”

“How about Sir Rhodey of the Rhodes? Or maybe James Pop and the Iron Stooges? Or …”

“Tony, shut up.” Rhodey gave the man a pointed look to which he fell silent with a small smirk in Peter’s direction.

“Look Peter. We understand this isn’t the best of circumstances and all. You can call me James, if you want. Most people including stupid over here call me Rhodey.”

Peter nodded. He could do that. Out of everything they’d asked of him this was the most reasonable. Peter knew what it was like not to have a name, not to be the person who had his name. In that place he wasn’t the Peter from his life before. He hated Peter and all his weaknesses and was glad he wasn’t anybody in that small cell. 

He wondered if he could ever find someone he wanted to be again? A tiny voice in the back of his whispered this apartment, the blue room, might be such a place to find himself again. 

-

1992, four months in time. 

Peter woke up to silence. Darkness swallowed him and if not for the bed underneath him, Peter would have floated away into it. His chest heaved, breath stalled in his lungs despite the urgent need to exhale. The curtains swayed lightly from the vent blowing hot air into his room and a silver of the moon showed every time it moved forward. He swung his whole body away and toward the door when he caught sight of the lake.

He rubbed his hand on his forehead. Was it all a dream? 

No. They were memories. He remembered going to sleep and then falling. Falling into darkness only to be dropped somewhere, everywhere. He lived through the memories, both past and present, at the same time but apart. How was that possible? When Rhodey offered him a plate of food when he was just in their care, he was also laughing with them at Tony’s new hair color. All the while some version of himself, maybe his true self, was at the bottom of the lake drifting against the sand. 

He rubbed his hands together and felt the small particles of sand there. He knew if he turned on the lights he wouldn’t see anything. Peter laid back down and stared at the ceiling. His hands clenched together under the covers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!


	18. Going Back

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading!

His back settled against the sand and one last torrent of bubbles left his mouth as his lungs contracted in protest. A slow tide moved him back and forth along the bottom of the lake. For a moment, he was a child again being rocked be a soothing rhythm in a crib. Sand moved underneath him stirring with his movements. His limbs were too heavy to move. Peter closed his eyes instead of watching the ice above. 

The particles of sand swirled around him, mingling with the blood in the water before settling on his person. Some rested on his hands palms open in the water and others settled lightly on his closed eyelids. Peter was finally in no pain. He couldn’t remember how he ended up here or why he had feared the water so much before. It almost was like being hugged by May. He tried to smile at the thought, but then he thought of Rhodey and Tony. Their concern and selflessness in the face of danger. He tried to open his eyes for them, to fight one more time but he was powerless against the slowing tide of this strange, underwater world. 

The last sand fell at a leisured pace through the water coming to land on Peter’s forehead. Time slowed in this underwater world filled with silence until, when all was quiet, it stopped. 

Peter gasped awake, heaving and clutching his chest. The sheets surrounding him were wet. He cringed at the cooling moisture touching his skin. Peter kicked off his pajamas before changing into a fresh pair. His reflection stared back at him from the mirror aside his bed. Tear tracks ran down his face. He wiped them away but the salt pricked his skin, reminding Peter of his dream. His memory.

The sheet settled over his skin. Peter turned to his side before moving back to look out the window. His skin itched but he tried to ignore it. Though he kicked the sheets off it continued to scrap along his arms and legs. The unseen grit ground moved across him increasing in its friction with every minute. The pressure built, both in his body and inside his head. Memories, past and present entangled, merged, and he was living them all at once. 

It was today. 

-

Peter’s hands shook as he carried their plates to the table. Tony’s smile was strained and there was tension around his eyes. Rhodey didn’t hid is worry. His frown followed Peter as he set the steaming hot waffles on the middle of the table. His stomach squirmed at their faces both from his concern for them and their concern for him. No one moved to grab a waffle. 

Silence descended. Peter blinked and the steam was gone. He reached a hand out to feel the top waffle only to find it cold. His eyes flew to the seats now vacated across from him. 

“Hello?” He called out. 

Peter blinked again and he was in the living room. Rhodey and Tony sitting on the couch in front of him. 

“We’ve been thinking…”

“A dangerous pastime.” 

“I know.”They grinned despite the somber mood. 

“As I was saying,” Rhodey continued. “We’ve been thinking and we don’t want you to go. We can figure out some way. You don’t have to go back. There are people after you there. Plus, we’d miss you.” 

“I appreciate it and I’ve thought about it. Believe me, if there was some way or some other option I would take it.”

Tony slammed down his hands on the coffee table. “Bullshit.” 

“Tony! We said we would be reasonable about this.” 

“No, James. You said that and assumed I would just go along with it. He can’t go back. They, whoever the hell they were, were going to kill him. And you saw the state of him in the hospital, I don’t think anyone was looking after him for a while. And we wouldn’t… He’d be…” 

Tony stopped when words wouldn’t come. He balled his hands into fists and knocked them on the table again. Rhodey sighed and leaned forward. 

“I think, though misdirected, Tony’s worried. As am I. But we have to trust Peter knows what he should do. I mean look at him now. He’s barely with us anymore. You’ve seen it Tony. It’s like he’s not here and not there either. It’s not fair to him”

“I’m right here guys!” Peter said and the two looked over at him. Eyes widening in a bit of shock he was sitting right across from them. “I have to go and…” He ran a hand though his hair. “You’re right. I don’t feel present anymore. I don’t know where I am anymore.”

Peter blinked and he was back in the kitchen, alone. The waffles sat uneaten on the table long after. 

-

Peter sat on the bed in the blue room; in his room and tried to memorize every stitch in the bedspread, every crack in the walls, and all the shadows on the ceiling. 

The living room and kitchen had already been subject to his scrutiny. Tony had walked in on him sitting in the silent, dark room. He’d laughed at Peter’s explanation. Peter thought he would go back to what he was doing but instead Tony’s smile slipped away and he sat down next to Peter. Silent in his waiting as they both look around the room. 

It was difficult to believe the air would turn stale in his room. Peter didn’t want to go back to the sun rotted furniture or see the scratches and wear that would grind their way into the corners and tables without him. Years would pass and he would be gone. The photos on Rhodey’s mom’s fridge would be replaced with new ones. Photos he wasn’t in. 

Peter blinked and lost more time. When he opened his eyes again the sun was beginning to break over the balcony floor. He wished he could feel the warm rays bouncing along the ice. Without realizing it he was across the room standing in front of the ice. The cold of the glass pricked at his hand rested palm flat on its surface. Peter heard the sand dripping, trickling down the sides of the hourglass and into the bottom. He would be gone by the time the top emptied fully. 

He sighed and went back to the bed. The sheets irritated his skin but he tucked them around his body and buried his head under the corner of his pillow welcoming the nothing of sleep.

Peter squeezed his eyes shut tighter in an attempt to block out the sun. Water lapped against his feet, birds harmonized with the wind, and his teeth chattered. With a quick glance down Peter’s stomach dropped. He was standing on the shoreline. How did Peter get there already? 

Thoughts of future and past collided in his mind. The two versions of Tony and Rhodey in his mind merged together. Maybe they were always together but he never admitted it until now. His friends were older than him but they were also his same age. They’d grown in the months together and yet would live without him for so long. How could he remember all of these things that hadn’t happened yet? Would he continue to remember this time, the time before he was born, once he was back in his time? 

He thought about waking up from a nightmare to find Rhodey comforting him and Tony’s kidnapping turned rescue of this poor, lonely child in the that place. They saved him, in more ways than one, and it was his turn. Peter knew he needed to go back, to go forward, and make sure they were okay. Now that their pasts were secure, he had to make sure their futures were protected. 

He took a deep breath These questions fell off him as he stepped onto the ice. The sand spun faster. Peter could practically hear a buzzing straining underneath the ice. 

The hourglass was almost full. 

In the middle of the lake there was a hole broken through the ice. The space not fully frozen where Rhodey had fell through earlier. He laughed at the memory that came to mind. Smiling toward the hole he remembered the day long ago where Rhodey explained about the friend that had saved him. The one Rhodey had said was gone now. The one Peter had been so curious about. Time seemed to twist further on him. 

Peter didn’t glance back or see if anyone was watching. He stepped forward and plunged into the water. Deeper and deeper he sank without fight or resistance the water stole him away. All the pressure, the grit he’d been feeling build in the past weeks began floating off of him. The weight lightened and he could see the particles drifting off into the water. 

The light of the surface faded to no more than a spot above his head. 

His back settled against the sand and one last torrent of bubbles left his mouth as his lungs contracted in protest. A slow tide moved him back and forth along the bottom of the lake. For a moment, he was a child again being rocked be a soothing rhythm in a crib. Sand moved underneath him stirring with his movements. His limbs were too heavy to move. Peter closed his eyes instead of watching the ice above. 

The particles of sand swirled around him, mingling with the blood in the water before settling on his person. Some rested on his hands palms open in the water and others settled lightly on his closed eyelids. Peter was finally in no pain. He couldn’t remember how he ended up here or why he had feared the water so much before. It almost was like being hugged by May. He tried to smile at the thought, but then he thought of Rhodey and Tony. Their concern and selflessness in the face of danger. He tried to open his eyes for them, to fight one more time but he was powerless against the slowing tide of this strange, underwater world. 

The Hourglass was full. Time had come full circle. The last sand fell at a leisured pace through the water coming to land on Peter’s forehead. Time slowed in this underwater world filled with silence until, when all was quiet, it stopped. Peter was taken to another time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spot the Beauty and the Beast quote? lol
> 
> Let me know what you think! Only about four more chapters!


	19. Homesick

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short one today! Enjoy.

The surface of the water broke sending seagulls scattering on the bank. Their rumpled feathers cascaded down onto the snow-covered sand as they took flight to safety. Ice bobbed around his head as he took in a deep breath. The crisp air of the surface stung his lungs but it felt like he could truly breath for the first time in years. The peace was broken by a gust of wind. Peter was all the sudden aware of the piercing cold. He struggled to stay above the water and climb onto the ice even with his enhanced strength. 

Instinct took over and all the hours of research he did after he fell into the water came to mind. Peter brought his legs up, parallel to the ice with his arms straight above the ice on the surface. Inch by inch he reached for anything he could grab onto. His nails dug into the frozen material, pulling him further until he lay out of breath and shivering on the ice. 

Peter could still feel the hourglass reflected in the crystal ice. It was spun around now. The full bulbous upper half spilling its contents slow but constant to the bottom. Before the grit tugged at him, weighed him down but now instead of smashing into him, Peter felt like a distant observer. He knew it was there; could see it hazy through a mist of sand if he tried but from far away like he was privy to a secret. 

It didn’t matter at the moment. He was aching. Peter’s limbs burned and all he wanted to do was fall asleep on the iced over water but he had to get back to their home. His legs were shaking so much it was impossible to walk. Instead he crawled along the ice. His weight cracked through patches of ice but he kept going. He had to get back. 

Peter blinked and found his back against a tree. The water lapped against his feet half-emerged in the water. He gasped for air, rearing back and hitting his head against the trunk of the tree. While he rubbed the bump forming on the crown of his head, he thought about what happened. It seemed the effects of his time exploits were reaping their influence on him. A smile came over his face. If he could control the jumps, it would certainly make the trek to the apartment easier. 

The water trickled back and forth, filtering between the pebbles on the shore. Peter imagined the sand floating in the water. Its weightlessness bringing it to ride the soft currents to the floor. Peter scrunched his eyes shut and felt the particles of sand rise up and dance over his skin. He pictured himself immersed in the sand. His eyes opened and he was in front of the door to the apartment. 

Peter smirked to himself ignoring all the questions this brought up and for once went with it. He needed to focus on the task at hand. Rhodey and Tony were behind this door. They had to be there, safe and snuggled into the couch. 

A cough wracked his chest. The door blurred as tears dotted his eyes. Peter’s first attempt to grab the door failed. His hand hit the molding an inch off from its mark but he got it on the second try. The door swung open. The light from the hallway spilt into the apartment banishing the shadows of the hallway away. Peter shuffled into the main room leaving a trail of water in his footsteps. 

His voice echoed against the walls. The calls to his friends were left stale and unanswered. 

No one was there. 

He ran to each room. The doors rattled against the walls as he threw them open. Room after room he searched. Even impossible places like in the drawers and under the beds. No one was there. The door to his room was closed when he made it down the hall. It taunted him with memories and Peter knew he wouldn’t be able to make it if he went into his room. 

The living room greeted him with muted colors and silence. Peter fell to his knees. There was no sense of other people in the space. They were gone. 

The sound of his falling to the ground broke the silence in the apartment. Peter brought his hands up to cover his eyes. Beneath them he wouldn’t have to see the way the apartment changed, wouldn’t have to see the emptiness. His ragged breaths stung his lungs. They were too harsh and fast. Bright spots intruded on his closed eyelids until light was dark and he was lost inside himself. 

In the slow manner in which you tune the radio. The oscillating dials bringing the static higher and higher until you pass the right point only to have to turn it back slower the next time was how Peter came back to the present. The static clogging his ears waxed and waned for a time until, just like the radio, the world came into tune. He became aware of the uncomfortable sticking of wet clothes to his shivering body, the cough threatening to tear up the inside of his chest, and the damp tile he as dripping on. Most of all he was aware of the lack of people around him. 

Peter pushed himself up cursing his shaking elbows. Through the moisture gathering in his eyes he forced himself to look at the apartment. Though nothing had changed outrageously; it was so different than before. The couch was green no longer. In its place sat a squat, marshmallow grey color instead of the olive. He swallowed and got up after throwing his out clothes into a pile on the tile. 

A glint of light caught his attention. Peter turned and walked over to the shelves lining the left side of the room above the now deflated plastic bubble chair. His socks left wet footprints behind him. Frames crowded the shelves. Picture frames. With bated breath Peter walked toward them. There they were. Rhodey, Tony, and himself were all in the photos. 

Peter traced his fingers around the one they took before Christmas for Roberta, Rhodey’s mom. There he sat squished between the two of them. There was a hesitant, small smile on his face as he looked up at the camera from his place on the chair. They all wore matching red sweaters and it turned out Tony was right. The cookies she sent them were well worth the trouble of sitting for a photograph. Tony and Rhodey were so young. His heart ached for the lost time. He placed the frame back on the shelve and stepped back to take in all the photos over the time he lived with them. 

The question was: Where were they now? 

Peter turned away as tears began to fall down his cheeks. These were slow tears interrupted by silent hiccups and the now constant shivers form the cold. He was back in his time but he realized it didn’t matter if he couldn’t find them. Peter stood there for a time, breathing through his tears. How could he be homesick for a time he was never supposed to live through?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading. 
> 
> Let me know what you think! Only three more after this :)


	20. Home

Peter stuffed down his emotions. He turned them off not willing to linger on the tearing hole in his chest. What he needed to do was plan. It was a tactic he used when everything in life was going wrong. A well laid plan, several well thought out plans with contingency tactics, was what would get him through this. Routine and instinct. Order and discipline. They served him well in that place and would here. 

He had long stopped shivering. The puddle underneath his feet and memory of the chill was cause enough for him to move. The hallway was dark but he didn’t bother to turn on the lights as he walked down it. There was so little evidence of the fight before he went back in time. Only some scraps on the corners and the new carpet color told Peter it had happened. 

The water of the shower plummeted to the bottom of the bath. He stayed under the water until his bones felt warm and even after the shivers came back. The cold never welcomed him now which was unfortunate because he loved the snow. Peter couldn’t bring himself to go into the blue room so he snuck into Rhodey’s room and grabbed a pair of sweatpants and sweatshirt from his drawers. After putting them on he went back and grabbed a couple more layers to insulate himself in. 

Fatigue followed his footsteps, shadowing him into the kitchen. He had to lean against the fridge in order to stand up. What he wanted was a huge bowl of sugary cereal with tons of marshmallows bobbing in it. The door to the fridge swung open shooting more cool air on him but all the milk was expired. Peter sat at the table gazing into the bowl of stale cereal. His eyes drooping shut further with very passing minute.

He was waiting. Now time had to catch up to him, it seemed. 

-

The door slammed open, bouncing against the wall. Peter was awake in an instant. Adrenaline and hope pumped through his veins. His back tensed against the back of the chair, muscles stiffening as voices floated into the kitchen where he was sitting. 

“We should have known. Damn kid was always so stubborn.”

“Easy Tones. Remember, we said slowly.”

He heard them bickering from the hallway. His stomach dropped at Rhodey’s cautions and Tony’s snicker. The legs of the chair scraped along the tile and Peter was in the hallway before he knew it. He braced himself on the doorframe to keep himself vertical. 

They were busy struggling to get out of their winter apparel so Peter had a chance to observe them. Rhodey was bent over untying his shoes. He could see a few grey hairs here and there. Rhodey’s hands, busy with his laces, were lined deeper than before. Tony on the other hand was looking up and Peter could see the extent of the age he now wore. Lines gathered around the corners of his eyes and forehead. His hair, almost grown out, was lighter than before, speckled with grey and white. 

They were alive and whole and standing before him with scant but the remnants of cuts almost fully healed. He couldn’t hold back the wince at the memories of how they got hurt. The men willing to do anything, including harming anyone, in order to get to Peter. His stomach pinched from the guilt churning there. He pushed his nails into the palms of his hands. It had been twenty-five years since he’d seen them. Twenty-five years for them and only hours for him. 

The pair stopped snaping at each other and turned toward him. Tony dropped the bags he was carrying. He stood with wide eyes holding his breath as he looked Peter over. Rhodey, on the other hand, was all motion. He stood up foregoing tying the other shoe and pulled Peter into a hug. Strong arms enveloped him in a tight embrace. Peter squeezed back with everything he could muster. Tony watched with a smile before rushing to join them. 

“I have so many questions.” He said into Rhodey’s shoulder. 

“We know.” 

“I’m still upset with you both.”

“We expected you to be.” They said in unison. 

Peter squeezed them tighter and whispered, “I missed you both so much.” 

“We missed you too, Peter. Welcome home.” A giggle bubbled up out of his stomach. He shook his head not quite believing they were here, he was here. Tony led them to the living room and Peter sank down, grateful at not having to rely on his all the sudden shaky knees. 

Tony pulled out a small metal device and ran it against his forehead. 

“How is it you always get sick with fever?” He muttered. 

Peter snatched the device out of his hand and scanned Rhodey while Tony went to get some cold medicine. A perfect 98.7 degrees. Not feeling very mature sitting next to his grown friends, Peter stuck his tongue out at Rhodey who winked back at him. 

The hamburger phone rested on the coffee table. He picked it up and giggled to himself. 

“I thought… I ordered a different one.”

“Oh?” Tony said coming back into the room with a bottle of red syrup. “They sent us the wrong one before closing. Hamburger instead of neon, right?”

Peter nodded laughing at his own breakdown he had because he thought ordering the wrong phone would change the timeline. It seemed as though it straightened itself out. Another laugh escaped him. Peter clapped his hand across his mouth and sat back. Someone needed to stop the room from spinning. 

“Whoa, there are four of you.” 

“And now he’s having hallucinations. Why can’t we do this right?”

“Stop it you worry wort” Peter laughed and mimicked a stern tone. His eyes felt heavy and Rhodey must have put a blanket on him because his body wasn’t moving under all that weight. 

“I…. love you Rhodey and Tony.” He said before giving in to the fever. 

-

“Should we wake him up? The fever’s almost gone though it was too fast if you ask me.”

“I didn’t, Tony, but we do need to leave soon. Ross is on the move again. At least we know now and will get him.”

“Don’t talk about me like I’m not here.” Peter mumbled.

“Peter!” Tony came to his side. “So glad you can join us in the land of the living again. No more ice baths for you.”

He smiled against the pillow and peeked an eye open. Tony pulled out the thermometer again. A cold swipe later and Tony’s smile was evidence of his returned health. He flexed his limbs to stretch out the stiffness. But with his return to health came an awareness of everything else he blocked out.

He sat up and eyed them with narrow eyes. 

“You knew?” He accused them with a point. “You knew the whole time. And that’s why Tony was at that place. Why you escaped with me?”

Rhodey came to sit next to him. Peter didn’t want to give an inch but when the man wrapped an arm around his shoulder all he could do was lean into the embrace. 

“Yes, Peter. We’ve been trying to find you for so long and then you were a baby, it wasn’t our place.”

“But there were so many times I could have… I needed… No one helped... and May died. Because I was alone. She died!”Rhodey looked to Tony who was staring out the window. Tony stared back at them through the glass. He spoke in careful, pleading sentences. 

“Do you remember what I said to you all that time ago? We couldn’t interfere, Peter. It was torture not to. But we were stuck in our own cycles, waiting for someone who cared enough to help break us free. We… I wouldn’t be here if you hadn’t gone back. You stepped into that hospital room so many years ago like a ghost in the dead of night. And I had a purpose enough to keep me going until I could find my way with the depression. Our time was ending and somehow, someway you came back to us and gave us more time. You fought for us without even knowing why because that’s the kind of person you are. We know you’re mad, you have every right to be. We lied and didn’t help you so many times I will never forgive myself. But we also promise to be there for you without hinderance now.”

He turned to them and revealed the tears on his cheeks. Peter’s throat itched and he grabbed Rhodey’s hand. It wasn’t enough, might never be enough, but it didn’t matter. Peter pulled them off the couch toward Tony. They fell into another hug. They fought for him and he would continue to fight for them. 

“I love you so much.” He whispered to them. 

Questions and heartbreak still cracked his heart but he was back with them. They fought for him and he would continue to fight for them.

He was home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Holidays. Thank you for reading.


	21. Turning Back Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all. Hope you're doing well. Happy New Year and Holidays. This is the penultimate chapter!

“I’m Spiderman.” 

He paced back and forth in front of the couch overcome with an odd wave of déjà vu. Peter couldn’t bear to look at them once the words spilled forth from his lips. Would Tony’s eyes crinkle at the corners like when he was trying to solve a tough problem? Would Rhodey smile despite the tension in his forehead? He shoved his hands into the pockets of his pants, thankful despite the anxiety surrounding him that they had thought of getting him new clothes. 

Tony spoke first and Peter’s breath held, pent up in his chest. “Kid, you’re full of surprises but a tad too late. Nice first suit though. Way better than mine.”

“Shut up, Tony.”

Peter turned to stare at them all wide eyes and gaping mouth. They chuckled but motioned for him to move closer. He settled at the end of the couch, once again touched by their thoughtfulness and speechless waited for them to talk. 

“We know you, Peter. We’re family and we’re going to help.” 

His throat burned under Rhodey’s concerned appraisal and at Tony’s admission. How could he have forgotten? The word family, the concept of family was just as foreign to him as the apartment was on his arrival back to 2017, but he should’ve known they wouldn’t let him forget for too long. They were a family, a team, and Ross was threatening to take it away from him. Peter couldn’t let that happen. To have something so previous torn away once he’d just gotten it back would ruin him forever. 

“We need to get him.” His shaking hands mirrored the tremors in his voice. “He has to pay.”

Peter remembered the first time he saw Ross, the eerie way he entered his apartment, the disdain and hatred in his eyes piercing into him. Bile rose in his mouth as he remembered the careless way he nudged May’s side as she lay on the ground. But then his eyes turned to Tony and Rhodey who staring at him not with pity but understanding, acceptance. Peter thought of their lives what they could be and what he wanted his to be. No grand fight with Ross was included. Somewhere remote and safe with the three of them is all he wanted. More than revenge, more than his fear and hatred. Peter just wanted to live a normal life. 

“Wait,” He whispered. “I don’t care about that. We need to run or go somewhere he can’t find us. I want to be normal. I can’t even remember what that feels like now but is it too much to ask for?”

“That may not be possible,” Tony replied in slow intervals. “See, we haven’t been sitting around on our laurels for 25 years. We’ve been trying to pinpoint Ross’s motives and reasons. Why he was targeting certain people and what his next moves are.”

“He found you from the hospital because of the blood loss you had.”

“You actually got the blood of one of the Hulk progenitors. We did some digging at the hospital, thanks to a donation, and found out that only that would work with your… shall we say arachnid leaning blood. Ross, the bastard he is, found this out as well and traced you through time. He found out the connection between us and the future. So, it’s all because of you”

“It’s always about me.” Peter gripped his knees until his knuckles were coiled tense.

“No, don’t listen to him.” Rhodey said. “Your connection to us certainly added to the intrigue but it’s hard to say if he would have stopped you from going back for any other reason. We really don’t know that yet.”

“But we will.” Tony said and nodded at his friend serious and solemn until a tinge of excitement entered his eyes. He turned to face Peter fully. “But we’ve found him at long last. Of course, it was too easy to find him after all this time so we know he revealed himself on purpose. He probably knows you know everything. We hadn’t planned on coming back here so our attempts to neutralize his surveillance is mediocre at best.”

“Sorry I was hypothermic and not thinking straight.” Peter said sarcastically while his eyes roamed around the room as he could spot any hidden cameras. “Okay, so when do we turn him over to the police?” 

Tony snorted before raising an eyebrow. Both of them hold similar expressions that made Peter’s neck heat up.

“What? Have you hit you head harder than we thought?” Rhodey said in a quiet tone. 

“Kid, we don’t need the police and Ross probably owns them anyway.” 

Peter narrowed his eyes at them, trying to gauge how apt they would be to a fight but he couldn’t get the winkles on their faces or the small bits of grey hairs out of his mind.

“But you guys are old now and, no offense, probably couldn’t fight them the same as when you were younger.”

“Ouch Peter. That’s harsh, isn’t it Tones? I think we’ve got some fight in us left.” 

“Kid, you do know who we are, right?” Tony’s eyebrows were raised so high and Peter could tell he was on the cusp of full-bellied laughs, but it do anything to jog his memory. 

“Tony and Rhodey?” He said with an uncertain waver. 

“Holy shit. Holy shit you will never live this down. I will never let you live this down. Rhodey remind me to remind Peter about this every day for the rest of our lives. I forgot you have this weird homeschooled vibe going.” 

“I was not homeschooled!” Peter said hotly wanting to get the conversation over with. 

Tony nodded at Rhodey who leaned over the arm of the couch and picked up the hamburger phone. They ignored him when he muttered a demand for them to tell him and expletive. 

“We told you, Peter. We haven’t just been sitting around these years.” 

Rhodey finished dialing on the phone and hung it up. Nothing happened for a moment and another curse was on the tip of his tongue when the wall moved. His jaw dropped. The wall opened up. Peter couldn’t help but wonder if he was in the bat cave or something like it because there inside the wall in fancy, gleaming glass cases was the Iron Man and War machine suits. 

Maybe he had hit his head or maybe Peter was out of touch because it was like the fog had cleared in his head. How had he never connected that? How had he not seen through it?

“Holy shit. You’re…What… Really??? I’m a dumbass.”

“You said it not us.”

Peter thought back to when they first met, the ease at which Tony broke free from that place with him in tow. Their means financially and knowledge of himself. It all made sense in a strange way but Peter couldn’t help the awe he felt. The strange fate he’d seemed to have fallen into. His family was special. They were heroes, something Peter always wished he was. But they were special not because of that but in addition to that. They had found Peter, cared for him from nightmares, sleeping and waking. He’d journeyed across time for them and they had waited for him. 

Peter smiled and grabbed their hands squeezing tight. He felt the stirring of sand across his skin but ignore it. He was here now and nothing could stop them.

“Let’s do this.” 

-

The tension hummed between them at all hours of the day, followed them and cloaked their actions in an ineffable awareness of what was to come. Instead of eating breakfast like they used to with a full table and laughter at every course, the table was laden with plans, serious discussion, and too few waffles. They whispered about that place; painfully went through their time there although that particular conversation left them all with damp eyes and heavy hearts. 

The apartment, twisted with time and now with a new unfamiliarness, left Peter at ends with himself. He wasn’t moving through time anymore but time was moving through him. Plans were made and contingencies were cemented, and all the time Peter felt like he needed to fight, to let out a scream. They were so close but the biggest hurdle was left in front of them.

It unfolded like so many things in Peter’s life. In a blink of an eye they were in the suits they spent hours fixing. Red, gold and silver stood on the hill overlooking the lake. It was fitting, he supposed, to have the final showdown be there overlooking the icy waters holding the sand he’d fallen into. 

They’d woken up to an alarm blaring through the apartment, invading the halls and the living room where they had taken to sleeping in sleeping bags on the floor and couch. With cold precision they got into their outfits hoping the suits would bolster their nerves and create an impenetrable strength. 

Ross stood at the base of the hill, looking with a cool detachment at them. His white mustache stood out in the dust light along with the hordes of men on either side of him.

“You would do well to abandon any hope of success. You know you can’t win this fight. I know you can’t win.” Peter fisted his hands at his sides and took a step forward. Tony placed his in front of his chest. 

“Careful now, Peter.” 

“As my mother used to say,” Tony said projecting down in his confident airy manner. “You’re too damn stubborn for your own good. You won’t get away with what you’re planning.” 

“Time works mysteriously, doesn’t it? Maybe I already have.” Cold pooled in his stomach. Ross knew about the time travel but did he know how? Peter didn’t even know how it happened. They all tensed at the implications. Was their fight lost before it had even begun? 

Tony growled under his breath. But it was Rhodey who remained silent in his calculations, almost too still until with a burst of movement his blasters ignited and he was off toward Ross.

“Rhodes! Shit.” Tony yelled. He was down the hill following his friend. Peter was frozen where he was. Heedless of his nerves and the will to fight, fear pooled in his stomach. It didn’t matter how many times they went over plans, how many hours they spent in anticipation. Something held him back for a moment. But a second was all it took. Rhodey impacted with the first man who protected Ross and Tony was right beside him before too long. They used every weapon and trick in their arsenal including the teamwork they’d honed through the years. Person after person rose up as they fought the previous down. All the while Peter saw that Ross was smirking. His cool, grey eyes watching with a sick glee as Tony and Rhodey fought on, tiring themselves out. 

Peter realized he was playing with them. Using their battle for his pleasure. Ross’s eyes flickered up to where Peter was standing and then he pulled something out of his pocket. The metal glinted with the light of the setting sun and chaos around them. It looked familiar in its shape but Peter couldn’t quite place it until it was put into us. Ross moved like a feline, confident and strong. The men parted around him and razor fast he was in front of Rhodey. He plunged the device in his neck and Rhodey coughed, sputtering blood before falling without anytime to counter or defend himself. 

Tony turned his head and let out a strangled scream. He swore at Ross and fought harder to get where Ross was standing. This time Ross let his opponent come to him with a smile on his face. Tony, emboldened by anger and despair, ran toward Ross not noticing the others were letting him through, not caring this was the plan.

Peter felt a shift of the sand around him and tugged against it harder, willing himself into movement. It was giving way against his efforts and as Tony stood in front of Ross, he was let free. Peter began running down the hill, breath stammering in his chest. He watched as Tony punched Ross, got the upper hand, and then witnessed as Ross smiled again, cold and deadly, before he spun Tony around and pressed the metal device against his neck. He whispered something to Tony before pressing it further into his neck. Blood ran down the corners of his mouth. Tony clawed the hands squeezing his neck. Ross pressed harder. Peter ran faster but he was too late. Tony’s eyes rolled back into his head. Iron Man suit and all, slipped out of Ross’s arm and fell to the ground. 

Peter fell to his knees in front of his friends. Their eyes unmoving in unnatural stillness. He reached out his hands and placed them on their cold metal suits. How could they be down so easy? They were Avengers, they were fighters and they were gone. 

He glared at Ross burning with anger. Ross’s smile moved not an inch. He stepped toward them and nudged Rhodey’s side causing his arm to flop over. Flashbacks of May’s apartment, f that day rose in his mind. 

“Leave them alone! Leave me alone!” He screamed and tried to gather them away from Ross. Ross bent forward and plucked Peter up, too easily for any normal human. He sneered at Peter heedless of his flailing arms and dragged the metal down his side. Burning pain erupted in his stomach. His hands clutched at the wound, the blood beginning to drip down and staining his red suit dark maroon. Ross twisted the metal device in his gut before dropping Peter to the ground next to the two fallen Avengers. 

“I don’t want you. I told you, Peter, death will always follow you. Time and space are no concern because of who you are and nothing will ever change what is to be. Have all your efforts ever changed anything? Look what happened,” He said motioned to them in his arms. “Your friends are dead and there is nothing you can do to stop it. I knew you were the key. We had planned for it to be done so much earlier, when Stark was going to die by suicide and James would fall and freeze in this damned lake but then something happened. You happened and nothing we did would change the outcomes. They lived despite our plans. But then we discovered you. It’s ironic you led them to their demise at the end when you worked so hard to save them earlier. I told you to remember those words, Peter Parker.” 

He stared at the man’s grey eyes. The cold glint in them tinged with glory for his cause. To rid the world of two good men, two men who would do anything, including give their lives for their friends and the world. But Peter wasn’t the same boy he’d been in the apartment with May all those years ago. He had spun through time itself to get back here. He had traveled years and space to be right here. The sand spun around him and he knew it he could win. Peter believed everything had led to this moment. 

Peter knew time now. Could see the hourglass in the reflection of those evil eyes. It was within his reach. Sand particles gravitated toward him like an old friend. The lake completely iced over behind them seemed to hum in Peter’s ears. 

He hugged his friends closer for a moment. Staring at their empty eyes and faces devoid of a smile. Ross laughed at him, basking in his triumph and Peter took a deep breath. He held his stomach and felt the blood seep out of him. Death indeed did follow him through life, dogging his steps and shadowing him but he had to do something before it could take him as well. His time wasn’t over yet. He could save them. 

Peter concentrated on the sand pieces around him, falling and settling on his person, and stilled it around him like a cloak only he could see. The sand floated there before he closed his eyes and concentrated on reversing its direction. The sand began falling upward. Peter poured everything of himself into the motion and prayed it would be enough. 

He opened his eyes and could see as time reversed. Ross was laughing and walking away from him. He was standing and moving toward the bodies of Rhodey and Tony. And their bodies moved, they got up from their resting spots. The fight began again in knew. Peter watched himself run back up the hill before he walked to were Ross was, invisible to all in the cloak of the sand. He waited with a strange calmness until the sand stopped rising. He smiled when it fell down again and Peter let go of his concentration. 

The urge to kill Ross grew strong. He stood behind the man who was unaware of his presence. The act would be so easy. It almost consumed him but then he remembered Ross’s words. That wasn’t the life he wanted to lead anymore. Death would follow him no longer. Peter drew back his hand and brought it forward with as much strength as he could muster. 

Not even seeing who brought him down Ross crumpled on impact. Undignified and ungraceful, he fell to the ground. All the men froze where they were as their boss was suddenly not awake. Rhodey and Tony blinked as he, for a moment, was in two spaces at once. They jerked to look at the top of the hill where he was still frozen before, in a blink of an eye, he disappeared. 

Tony punched the man in front of him before smirking. 

“And I thought one Peter was enough.”

“The fuck is this?” Rhodey said finishing off the people around him with ease. Their confusion led to an easier fight and soon there were none left standing. 

They ran toward him, each taking a side of his face in their hands. Their thumbs wiped under his eyes and Peter realized tears were running down his face. 

“What happened Peter?”

“Are you okay?” They said at the same time. 

“I’m okay, guys. I’m…” He gasped as his side pulled. The wound felt hallow and full at once. They all glanced down at his stomach. He peeled his hand away and felt a wave of dizziness overcome him. The blood was still there. It hadn’t been erased after all. 

“You are not fine. We need to get him to a…”

Their words filtered out of his ears and something was weighing him down. Peter took a step forward. His knees crumpled but there was no impact. Arms enveloped him and the burning in his side disappeared. He smiled and sent a thankful thought to the lake behind him. 

They were safe and alive, and for now it was enough. The sand cloaked him in a thin layer and Peter fell into darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed! Please let me know what you think.


	22. Finale

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! Thanks so much for reading.

1992

Peter was present enough to realize his heart was breaking. 

They walked side by side to the beginning of the path, staring down the hill as the wind swept through the trees and over the frozen water. The cold breeze pooled around their bodies, separating them in their own private storms before pushing them together again. 

Peter’s shoulders slumped forward, his arms clung around his torso. He told himself it was for warmth and not because of the aching in his chest. The uncomfortable itching in the back of his throat was enough cause for concern but with every step they took toward the lake a painful tearing rose up in his heart. 

He was leaving. Though he knew it as fact, it didn’t stop him from worry. He had no more present of future here. 1992 would once again become a part of his past. It was relieving in a way until he remembered the people would be in the past as well. 

The hope he would find them alive and well burned as the tiniest flame within him. There was no alternative as far as Peter was concerned. Rhodey and Tony were fine. They were alive and happy and so much older. He cracked a small smirk at the last thought. 

“I can’t believe you’re a 2000’s baby.” Tony whined and drew his attention to his friends. 

“You don’t even know what that means.” Rhodey said

“It just sounds so drab. And to think we’re already out of college and he’s in high school, almost 30 years from now. We’re going to be so old then.”Rhodey also crinkled his nose at Tony’s statement. Peter sighed at them with soft eyes. He shifted his feet against the pavement.

“It’s a long time and you’ll probably forget all about me but…”

“Shut up, kid.” Tony said, him and Rhodey squared their shoulders to face him. Their solid wall blocked most of the wind and Peter smiled at their unintentional protection. They were always looking out for him. 

“We will never forget you. We will look and find anyway to help you we can. You’re a weird one, Peter, and so are we. We’re family.” Tony was solemn but in agreement with his friend. Peter saw his fists, peeking out from his jacket. The solidarity in the words made it that much harder to leave. He wanted to believe them, to believe they would come and find him in the future before all the bad happened. 

He pictured them arriving at May’s tiny apartment. Her suspicion of the two older men and how they knew he son would be present until she saw how good they were. They would squeeze into their tiny kitchen and cook meals together, laugh together, and live as a family. He knew they could save her.

But he also knew that wouldn’t happened. Peter had already lived through a world without her and them. He knew what awaited him on the other side. May was gone no matter how hard he wished.

What he had to do was have trust in something he couldn’t tell: the future. He remained blissfully unaware of what was in the future and was happy about it. That was one space time rule he didn’t want to break. 

Peter stared at his friends noticing the dark circles and concerned eyes that made his stomach warm. It seemed he wasn’t as good of an actor as he thought. Peter decided to give them one last present. Some comfort to hold while he was gone throughout the years. They could think he would be safe and happy. They wouldn’t be burdened by the events they hadn’t seen come to fruition yet. Sometimes ignorance is bliss and as he hugged his friends, Peter wished someone could do the same for him. Their arms squeezed him until it hurt to breath but he didn’t let go. 

Peter blinked and he was standing on the shore of the lake. 

-

2017

They left the hospital together in more or less one piece. Bandages and medicine were their new companions but they were free to leave after a week in the white, sterile halls. Peter couldn’t care about anything else. 

Tony scanned a badge along the wall and the door to their apartment opened. The three of them settled in as if they had been doing it their whole lives. Rhodey organized the entry way and all of their bags before grabbing the first aid kit to change their bandages, Tony tinkered with the suits, and Peter went straight for the kitchen to make tea and bring snacks. He could hear Rhodey forcing Tony to stop fidgeting and rest. 

The air was warm and full of words left unsaid. 

Tony and Rhodey gave each other enough looks for Peter to know they were having one of those secret conversations. So, he gave them the space they needed. Peter wandered down the hall to his room, stepping into the dark room. He let out a breath he hadn’t known he was holding. It was exactly the same as it had always been since he’d moved in and Peter understood at long last that it was fully and completely his. It was no mere guest room or a temporary stay. He had always been a part of this place; a part of them. Tears gathered in the corners of his eyes as he beheld the blue walls and bedding. 

-

“Ready, kid?” Tony asked from the doorway.

Peter nodded and took Tony’s hand. He felt like an unruly toddler grabbing on to the warm fingers but he marveled again at the strength in his hand once more just like when they first met. So much change but that was constant. Tony pulled him through the hallway until they reach Rhodey checking over the bags.

Their apartment, the little safe space they spent afternoons watching movies, evenings cooking, and time growing together wasn’t safe anymore. Ross was gone now, safe in some place he would never see the light of day again but more might follow in his footsteps. They needed to move on. Together. There was no need to fixate on the past or future. There was no waiting to go back or forward anymore. They were together and could be together in the present. 

Peter closed his eyes and imagined the sand floating, the grit rubbing across his skin. The weightless falling. He opened his eyes to find himself in the same spot, Tony and Rhodey staring at him. He shrugged with a bashful smile.

“Just saying one last goodbye.”

Tony’s hand squeezed his. Peter reached over to grab Rhodey’s hand.

“Let’s go, Peter.” 

The three of them left their small haven behind. Relics of their multiple pasts sitting left but not forgotten. The three friends moved toward the future. Peter looked up at them and his chest almost burst. He’d fought for their time, their futures, and now with his family beside him, they could do anything. Peter smiled and held the feeling close to his heart.

-

The End.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, I can't believe this one is done! Can you believe this was supposed to be a one-shot for whumptober? Thanks everyone who read silently, those who left comments, and those who favorites or followed. I appreciate everyone and anyone. Hope your new year is off to a good start. Much love, E.


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